


Peter Goes to Sunnyvale

by Iliketrains12



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), Trailer Park Boys
Genre: Crack Crossover, Crack Treated Seriously, Drug Use, Gen, Had a lot happening so I'm writing anything to deal with it, He becomes one anyway, Humor, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Not Beta Read, Out of Character, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Pre-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Protective Tony Stark, Recreational Drug Use, Retelling, Tony shows up in the end, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, lots of swearing, ooc may parker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 21:04:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17251367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iliketrains12/pseuds/Iliketrains12
Summary: Summer Break is finally here, and Peter can't wait. Aunt May takes him to visit her sister Linda, who lives in a trailer park in Nova Scotia. While there, Peter runs into some old friends and tries to prove to a concerned Tony Stark that they're really not a bad influence.Spoiler Alert: It doesn't go well.(Rewrite of Trailer Park Boys Season 5, with poor Peter thrown in)





	1. Going to Canada

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this to help me cope with some heavy personal stuff going on. Just as a way to distract myself. Sorry if it sucks, but I just needed to write. I hope you like it though. Lemme know!
> 
> For those unfamiliar with Trailer Park Boys, I'm writing as if nobody has seen it so don't fear!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter tells Mr. Stark that he's going to Canada to visit his friends. Tony gets curious.

May knew that it was only a matter of time before her sister Linda would call her, asking her to come visit. It had been a few years since their mother had passed, and Linda had taken it pretty hard. May was close to both of them, and Peter had good friends up there that he had not seen in years. If she was going to go to check up on her sister’s well being, Peter should probably come along too. It would be a good experience for him to catch up with his old buddies, and perhaps help him break out of his comfort zone a little bit. She never told Peter that the reason they were going was due to her sister’s depression.

Peter rushed out of the school building, excited to see Mr. Stark standing outside waiting for him, with his limousine parked behind him. Happy kept his eyes forward, pretending not to notice him.

"Big day for you, kid." said Tony, smiling. "Ready for Summer break?"

Peter smiled back at him. "Sure am! Aunt May's taking me to Canada next week to see some family and old friends up there."

Tony frowned for a split second, then hid behind a fragile smile. "Oh." He cleared his throat. "So...you're not going to be _interning_ , then? I mean, Spider-Man doesn't exactly swing by Canada all the time, does he?"

Peter frowned. He hadn't thought about that. He was so excited about going on a trip and seeing his old buddies that he didn't even think about not being a superhero while he was up there.

"Aw man." he sighed, hanging his shoulders. "I mean, she didn't say how long we'd be up there. Maybe I can go back to that ‘internship’ afterwards?"

Tony put his arms around the kid's shoulder and led him into the car. "Don't worry about it, kid. You go have fun up there. Tell you what. How bout we go for a bite to eat before heading to my lab? I want to hear about your old buddies up there. Will you tell me about them?”

Peter’s face beamed happily. “Sure, Mr. Stark!”

 

* * *

 

Happy was enjoying his burger, oblivious to Tony and Peter’s conversation on improvements that could be made on the suits. Peter had suggested maybe having a suit made of tiny nanoparticles that would flow over Tony like a liquid. It wouldn’t be so bulky, or need to fly to him. The parts could be compressed into a tiny container so that he could have it anywhere, anytime.

“You could store it in like, a small compartment on your wrist or something.” said Peter, digging into his fries.

“I’ll think about it.” said Tony, taking a bite of his burger. “I’m actually working on something like that right now. Anyway, let’s talk about _you_ , kiddo.”

Tony wiped his mouth and asked the kid. “So what are your buddies in Canada like?”

Peter shrugged a little, nervously shoved a fry into his mouth. “Er, well. I mean it’s been a few years but they were pretty cool.”

“And? Go on.”

“Well, there’s this one guy named Ricky, and he was fun to be around when he wasn’t too drunk or high on some of the weed he was growing out of his car that he lived in sometimes. He’s not the brightest though.”

Peter saw Tony’s posture shift, almost as if he was trying to subtly convey his disapproval already.

“B-but! He’s a really nice guy! Really he is! And then there’s Julian. He’s kind of bossy but cool too. He looked out for me when we visited back when I was little, and I remember he always carried a glass of rum and coke with him, even jogging, or driving, or whatever. He and Ricky were always partners when they did their...jobs.”

Tony leaned in, furrowing his brow. “Jobs? What kind of jobs, Peter?”

Peter squirmed uncomfortably. “N-nothing too bad, Mr. Stark. They’re good people! Just things like, well one time they _borrowed_ a farmer’s tractor to pay for a vet bill.”

“Oh yeah? How’d that happen? Details, kid. Let’s go.”

Tony was definitely not approving of Peter’s friends. Peter devoured the rest of his fries and tried to delay as long as he could. Mr. Stark wasn’t having it. “I’m waiting, Peter.”

“Well, their neighbor’s dog got into some… ‘food’ that he wasn’t supposed to be in, and they had to take him to the vet. I think I heard that the vet wanted the payment in the form of a tractor for some reason. I think the farmer owed him or something. But that could just be a rumor! I mean I was really little so I wasn’t there for that!”

Happy gave the kid a suspicious squint of the eyes. Peter felt so screwed as Tony did the exact same thing.

“It’s okay, Mr. Stark! Really. They’re not bad people. And that was _years_ ago! Besides, May will be there too and so will my buddy Bubbles.”

Tony blinked. “Bubbles?”

Peter smiled and took a sip of his soda. “Yeah, Bubbles is the best. He’s so nice and has lots of cute cats that he takes care of. I think you’d like him.”

“And his name is Bubbles?”

“Yep.”

Tony sighed, not bothering to hide the disapproval and concern on his face. He had never met these guys, but he knew for sure that Peter was hiding a lot more than he said about them. His protective instincts told him that these guys were probably a bunch of druggies, or something of that nature. They were going to be a bad influence on the kid, and that wasn’t about to happen on his watch. Peter had such a bright future ahead of him. He was kind, loyal and smart. Once the kid had more experince under his belt, Tony even planned on offering him a spot with the Avengers! But what could he do now? Tony wasn’t the kid’s father. He couldn’t just say, “Pete, you’re not going, and that’s final!”, even though he wanted to.

_Aunt May._

His unusually attractive aunt would know more about these guys that Peter had been around, and could assure him that the kid would stay out of trouble while he was away. All he needed to do was drop Peter off after tinkering in the lab, then have a chat with her about the whole thing. It couldn’t fail.

“Okay, kid.” said Tony. “I trust you. Now let’s get going, shall we?”

 

* * *

 

Peter couldn’t help but notice Tony cutting his time with him rather short at the lab today, and he seemed really eager to drop him off at May’s apartment. God, he hoped Mr. Stark wasn’t getting a crush on his aunt. That would be so awkward. Peter shuddered at the thought and waited for Happy to park the car. Once they were all inside, Tony wasted absolutely no time in striking up a conversation with May.

“So the kid tells me you’re going to Canada.” He pretends to sound excited for them.

May smiled. “That’s right, Mr. Stark. Peter has some old friends of his, and I have my sister I haven’t seen in a few years so I thought ‘Why not go?’”

May offered him a seat in the kitchen while she made coffee for them. Tony sat down and folded his hands. He shot a quick glance at Peter.

“Oh yes he told me a little about them. Ricky, Bubbles, and Julian I think it was?”

May didn’t appear phased in the slightest. She kept grabbing the coffee cups and sugar for Happy’s cup. Peter and Tony both wanted theirs black. “Mm-hmm.” she said. “I assume Peter told you the bare minimum about them, and you’re concerned right?”

Tony scoffed. “Concerned? No, I trust his instincts, I mean _your_ instincts. I just was curious that’s all.”

May handed them their cups of coffee, and sat down. She smiled at Peter before fixing her eyes on Mr. Stark.

“Yeah, they’re all much older than Peter by at least ten years or more. When we last went up there to visit, Bubbles looked after him and they had a lot of fun. They took him for a joy ride around the trailer park and around the area-”

“ _Trailer park_?” Tony interrupted.

“Yes, Mr. Stark. A trailer park.” May responded defensively. “Is that a problem?”

“No. Why? Why would that be a problem?”

May smiled at making the great pompous Tony Stark feel uncomfortable, and continued. “My sister lives in Sunnyvale Trailer Park, in Nova Scotia. It may not be a nice mansion in Malibu but it’s a home.”

“But what about Julian, Ricky and Bubbles?” he asked, ignoring May’s jab at him.

“What about them?” She said casually, sipping her coffee. “They get into a little bit of trouble from time to time but they’re good people. Don’t you worry.”

“Worry?” Tony gulped down his coffee. “I’m not worried. Why would I worry? I mean, it’s just a trip right? How long are you going to be gone?”

May glared at him.

“I need to document it so Peter doesn’t get points for absences.” He said quickly.

“Of course. We shouldn’t be more than a couple weeks. Maybe three at most.”

“That’s a long time without Sp-” Tony caught himself. “Special access to the latest technology.”

May gave Tony a condescending smile and motioned her hand to the door. “He’ll manage. Now we need to get packing so..”

Tony got the message. It was time to leave. “Okay, well you two have a good trip.”

 

* * *

 

May and Peter landed safely at Halifax Stanfield International Airport, where Linda was waiting for them with open arms. After a few hugs and kisses, she led them to her car and drove them to Sunnyvale Trailer Park. They were going to stay with Linda for the time that they were there. It could be days, or weeks. Hopefully the earlier choice. Peter loved to travel, but he also wanted to go back to being Spider-Man too. He thought about how much he was going to miss swinging from skyscrapers, and laid down on Linda’s couch to sleep for the night. One thing he was determined to do while he was here though, was to prove to Mr. Stark that his friends were nothing to worry about. They were good people, and he’d prove it.

 

_Mr. Stark will see. I’ll be fine. He’s just worrying for nothing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This story takes place after Civil War, and kinda close to Homecoming. At the time of those movies, recreational use of weed was still not legal in Canada. 
> 
> Also I added the Peter Parker and Tony Stark relationship tag bc even though Tony won't physically show up until much later, he still talks with Peter and the father-son type of protectiveness that Tony has does come into play. They still interact with each other.


	2. Meet the Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing some of the main characters. Peter tries to record a video to show Mr. Stark that his friends are good people. Things don't go quite as planned.

Peter's slumber was cut short by the sound of bottles and other various junk hitting the ground outside with a crash.

"Julian! I'm sleeping in. I'm taking the day off!" an angry voice yelled.

"Rick! I need you car, and I need your gun. Get up!"

Wait a minute. He knew those voices! Peter jumped to his feet and quickly got himself dressed. His old friends were outside, and he was eager to see them again. May had already left to take her sister out for the day, giving Peter the okay to hang around the park. Unlike Tony, Aunt May trusted him to be old enough and smart enough to manage in the park alone. This shouldn't be too difficult, especially given his powers that he now had to try and conceal from May and the residents of the park. Tony had sent him a text message the night before.

_I want lots of pics and videos from your trip! Text me every day ok, bud? Have fun! (smile emoji)_

Peter knew that Mr. Stark was still distrusting of his friends, and was trying to check in on him to make sure he stayed out of trouble. He also knew that Mr. Stark had him by the throat. If he didn't comply, Tony could fly to him any time he wanted and give him an earful or worse, make him lose the "internship". Sighing in frustration, he replied _"ok i will"_ and then went to sleep. What on earth was he suppose to take pictures of or record? It was a freaking trailer park, not a tourist attraction! Shoving the thoughts aside for the time being, Peter bolted out of the trailer and found a muscular man with jet black hair peeling out of the grass and speeding off in an old and beaten down 1975 Chrysler New Yorker. The paint was all but completely stripped, and the front passenger door was completely gone.

“Julian?” he said to himself.

On the ground, Peter found piles of half-eaten food, a toaster, liquor bottles, clothing and other kinds of trash and small appliances scattered around, and laying in the center of the mess on the lawn was a hungover man with sideburns, a black and white button down shirt, track pants, and a Rockabilly haircut. He was out cold, using an old take-out box as his pillow while he slept on the grass in broad daylight.

"Ricky!" Peter shouted. "Ricky are you okay?!"

He rushed to Ricky's side, shaking him frantically. He relaxed a little once he saw him start to move, swatting the kid's hand away in irritation. "Goddammit, Bubs I'm trying to sleep here! It's my fucking day off! I said ten more minutes! Fuck!"

"Ricky, it's me! It's Peter!"

Ricky groaned and stumbled to his feet. "Aw, fuck. My head. I got fucked up last night."

He rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times at the teenager in front of him. "Who the fuck are you, again?"

"It's me, Ricky!" said the teenager with a smile. "Little Peter Parker?"

Peter waited patiently as the gears in Ricky's head were turning furiously, trying to remember the name and face. He knew that Ricky wasn't the brightest. His gears were probably clogged with hash and bong resin anyway, but eventually he'd put two and two together. Hopefully. Maybe.

"Oh shit! Yeah, I remember you!" Ricky laughed. "Your aunt grew the _best_ dope for us that one time, man!"

Peter cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to hide the shock at discovering that his aunt had been involved with any kind of drug operation, especially with these guys. Ricky gave the kid a friendly slap on the back.

"Holy fuck, you've grown. Come here I got a task for ya bud."

He pointed to a small shed behind him. Another man wearing a long sleeved button down shirt and jeans was grabbing some shopping carts and parking them in front of the shed. He had an under bite, giant bottle-eyed glasses and short chestnut hair. Peter was concerned as he watched him whimpering and pacing back and forth, pouting like a child. The shed was wide open, and Peter widened his eyes at seeing all of the liquor bottles that were crammed from top to bottom inside. Ricky smacked the kid on the back again. "We gotta clean these up. Let's go, kid. Get on it."

"Bubbles!" Peter called out as he walked to the mountain of liquor bottles.

The man turned around and let out an excited hoot, like that of a monkey. "That you, Petey?! It is! Holy shit you've grown!"

Bubbles pulled Peter in with a big bear hug, and gave him a noogie. Peter squirmed as if he couldn’t break free, laughing as Bubbles played with him. "Good to see you again, Petey! I'm just cleaning bottles here and putting them in my shopping carts. Could use a hand here, to be honest."

Peter smiled cheerfully and grabbed a bottle. "Sure thing. Let's do it."

 

With the combined efforts of Peter, Ricky and Bubbles, the bottles were cleared in no time. Things seemed like they would go smoothly, and he had planned on recording a video of his two friends for Mr. Stark to see that they weren't that bad at all. Peter whipped out his smartphone and told the guys what was going on, being honest with them and wanting to prove to his distrusting mentor that he had nothing to worry about.

"Alright, cool." said Ricky. "Turn on the camera, Pete."

With a flick of his finger, he turned it on and faced the phone towards Ricky, who was standing in front of the carts.

"Is this thing on now?" Ricky asked, lighting a cigarette in his mouth. Peter nodded. Then Ricky began his first formal address to Peter's mentor. "Ok so listen up, Tony Smark, or Snark or whatever the fuck your name is. I'm Ricky, This guy over here is Bubbles." They both waved with a smile.

"We're Peter's friends, and he's cool as shit. Now I’m gonna be honest with you. I smoke a lot of dope and I get drunk a lot, and there's nothing wrong with that. I also like to sleep in when that happens and there's nothing wrong with fuckin' that either, and Pete's cool with it so if you wanna fly down and get drunk and high that's fine with us! We can hook you up with whatever dope you need or whatever if you want some to take home back to the US or wherever. Use it at a party or something."

Peter gulped, thanking God he wasn't live streaming this.

"I mean, Julian took my car and my gun to go do some shit, but we'll all probably be at my dad's place later and just have a fuckin' barbecue or something. We got plenty of dope, so come join us!"

Peter stopped him, and forced a pained smile on his face as he tried to hide his embarrassment.

"That's good. Thanks." he said weakly. This was going to be a lot harder than he thought. Peter stopped the recording and put his phone away just in time for a little blonde haired girl to come running up to them, she jumped and latched onto Ricky, hugging him tightly.

"Hey Dad!" she said.

"Hey, knucklehead!" Ricky laughed and rubbed her head with paternal affection. "Peter, this is my daughter Trinity. Trinity this is Peter. He's a friend of ours. Say hi."

Trinity just looked at him and waved silently. "Grandpa said we could take these bottles, so can I have them, Dad? Please?"

Ricky nodded and watched happily as his little daughter ran down the street with two carts full of empty liquor bottles. She had grown up so fast. Bubbles couldn't help but express some concern though.

"Ricky, are you sure that was a good idea?"

"Well, yeah why wouldn't it be? I mean, the old man said she could so. Whatever."

He then turned his attention to Peter. "Hey while you're here, mind if I come get you later on?"

"Sure." said Peter. "I'm at Linda's trailer, so just stop by."

Peter walked back to Linda's place while Ricky threw his cigarette to the ground. He needed to borrow a couple of shopping carts off of Bubbles to collect a few things for himself. These things, however, were in another person's trailer.

 

* * *

 

Ricky stomped down the road, pulling a few shopping carts behind him, his face full with half-drunk determination. What Ricky didn't tell Peter was that he and Julian had just gotten out of jail, having been busted by the cops for having a fake license, and violating probation by carrying weapons and illicit drugs. What those idiot cops didn't find, was the large field of weed that they had been growing. Before being arrested, the guys were able to secure a deal and sell enough dope to buy the entire Sunnyvale trailer park, and even retire. Unfortunately, the two dumb-asses that they entrusted the money with had squandered the cash while they were still behind bars.

 

Cory and Trevor. Two young men who always helped the guys in their odd jobs and drug deals, had lost the money to the owner of the trailer park, an old lady named Barbara. The rest of the money was wasted on clothes, cars, and buying things for the other residents. One of those residents was a wannabe rapper who went by the name J-Roc. That pale skinned, wimpy wannabe was about to pay back the money that Ricky rightfully owned, or he would have his new toys impounded.

 

J-Roc knew that this day was coming. He tightened his bandana around his short golden hair, making sure his hat was crooked just right, and his crew was there to support him when Ricky came storming in. He plopped himself on the couch, and J-Roc sat down next to him, looking at his new keyboard and musical equipment for what might be the last time.

"Where'd you guys get the stereo equipment and mixing shit?" Ricky asked, ready to be fed a bullshit answer.

"We been fucking with groceries, man y’know what I’m sayin?" J-Roc answered, along with his best friend T.

T was a bigger, more imposing man that J-Roc, but he was always loyal to a fault and more prone to pacifism than using force to get things done. "We been stealing from them parcel pickups at the grocery stores and selling them at the park, y’know?"

Ricky wasn't buying it. Literally. He only got more agitated when they attempted to give him some of the stolen groceries as an act of good faith, knowing damn well that even with the money made by selling stolen groceries, it wouldn't be nearly enough for all the expensive turntables, mixers and microphones J-Roc had. It was his money they used, and he was about to get it back, sort of.

"You got this with Cory and Trevor's money. _**My** _weed money!" said Ricky, angrily. "You know what? I'm taking all your stereo equipment back!"

They were helpless to stop Ricky as he shoved them out of the way while he yanked the cords and grabbed J-Roc's equipment, cursing at them as he threw the turntables and stereo into the carts outside. Fed up with all of the bullshit, Ricky let his anger get the best of him and marched right back into the trailer. He headed to the back, grabbing and smashing J-Roc's album copies along the way.

"And you know what else? Fuck it, I'm taking your dryer too!"

 

* * *

 

 

Peter was texting Ned about how excited he was to be in Canada again. He took a clean breath of fresh air and continued walking around the park to kill some time. Suddenly he felt his hairs stand on end. His spider sense was going off, and Peter jumped backwards in time to dodge an old dryer crashing through the front door of the trailer in front of him, tumbling and landing by his feet.

"What the heck?"

Ricky ran outside and tried to load the large dryer onto one of the shopping carts, cursing up a storm as the weight of the appliance kept toppling the cart over. Peter watched in amazement as Ricky tried over and over again to fit the thing in a shopping cart. He didn't remember Ricky being quite _that_ dumb. A small wave of pity came over him, as he watched Ricky try and fail for the fifth time and he decided to lend a hand.

"Here, let me help with that, Rick.' He said politely.

"No fuck it!" Ricky shouted, shoving the now broken dryer into the middle of the street. "Leave it. Come here, I need your help dropping this stuff off at my daughter's." 

_Oh, great._ Peter thought to himself.

Peter waited outside while Ricky was inside his girlfriend Lucy's trailer, arguing with her and her friend Sarah. He tried to ignore the yelling, reminding himself of the good times he had with the guys years ago. They're good people, he kept telling himself. They're good people.

From what he could hear with his enhanced abilities, Lucy had dumped him and kicked him out of the trailer. Ricky was crushed, and walked back outside with a melancholy expression. Lucy was his true love, or at least he said so. They had Trinity together, got drunk together all the time, and had a long history. For her to leave him, to cut him off from the two people in his life that he loved the most, it just broke his heart. He motioned for Peter to follow him, trying to keep his composure, and they gathered outside Bubbles's shed.

"Okay guys, so here's the plan." said Ricky, his voice soft and heartbroken. "Lucy dumped me, and I need to win her back. Will you help me? Peter? Bubs?"

Bubbles agreed, but Peter stayed silent.

"Look Pete, I know you're a goody Sue-shoes or whatever but you're also a good guy, and I need your help here. I know you like to help those in need, and I'm your friend and I'm in need. So the way I see it, you gotta help me."

Peter sighed. "Okay. I mean, if it's just helping you out with Lucy I can see what I can do, but I've never had a girlfriend. What can I do?"

Ricky gave the kid a confident smile. "I'll tell ya what we're gonna do. We're gonna make some money and show Lucy that I can take care of my family.”

“How?” Peter asked, worried about the direction this was going.

“Follow me, I got a new car.”

Ricky led him to a 1976 Chrystler, in good condition. It was certainly better than that piece of junk that he saw earlier. Peter sat in the passenger seat and buckled in. So far so good. He was relieved that the car wasn’t stolen or anything. He had to admit, at times he thought too little of his old friends, even though he was trying to prove to Mr. Stark that there was nothing to worry about. Perhaps he wasn’t really trying to convince Mr. Stark. Maybe he was trying to convince himself. Ricky plopped himself into the driver seat and started the car. Bubbles ran to him, out of breath.

“Ricky what are you doing?!” he yelled. “You can’t hot wire Mr. Lahey’s car!”

Ricky already put the car in reverse and slammed on the gas. “He left the keys in the car! He’s a fuckin’ idiot!”

“Wait!” cried Peter. “This isn’t really yours?!”

 

The car peeled off and sped out of the trailer park like a bat out of hell. Only Ricky knew where they were going.


	3. It's Fuckin' Cyrus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Peter thought was just a drive in Ricky's new car turns out to be something completely different, and he ends up getting dragged into a confrontation with Cyrus, a gun wielding drug dealer who dresses like the Fonz.

Ricky slowed the car down as he pulled into a quiet neighborhood, his eyes focused on a house at the end of the curb. Peter stayed quiet, believing that the less he knew about what was going on, the better things would be. Ricky couldn’t help but feel sorry for the kid. He had never broken the law in his life, and was probably scared that he would get kicked out of school or lose his internship with Mr. Stark, not that he knew what an internship actually was. He did know that whatever an “inner ship” (as he thought it was called) was, it was important to Peter, and he would make sure that the kid wouldn’t lose it. Maybe. He wasn’t sure, but he would try.

“Okay, Pete. Here’s a good place to turn your camera on. You ready?”

“Sure, Rick.”

Peter pulled out his phone and started recording. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary just yet, so maybe this time would work out. “Now listen.” Ricky said calmly. “All we’re gonna do is see my buddy Cyrus and-”

 

He noticed that the kid was no longer looking at Ricky, but at something else straight ahead. Ricky followed his gaze and immediately saw what had stolen Peter’s attention. Parked just ahead of them was that same beaten down Chrysler from this morning.

“Julian’s here?!” Peter blurted.

"What the fuck?!” said Ricky. “What’s Julian doing here?!”

There in the driveway of the house was the muscular figure of a man in a tight black shirt, a glass of rum and coke in his left hand. Julian was carrying a pistol in his right hand, and over his broad shoulders were duffle bags stuffed so full that Peter thought they could burst at the seams. Did he even _want_ to know what was in those? The two watched Julian run from the house and open the trunk of Cyrus’s 1981 Monte Carlo. He stuffed the bags inside the truck and bolted into the driver’s seat. Two more armed masked men ran frantically out of the house, also carrying duffle bags and guns. Peter recognized the short guy in the white tank top and braided black hair as Cory. The other masked man was tall and lanky, with curly brown hair. That was his partner in crime, Trevor. The two boys dove into the Chrysler car, as Peter’s jaw dropped to the ground.

Both vehicles peeled away, tires screeching as a middle aged man dressed as the Fonz from Happy Days opened fire on them from the porch. Two other men fired at them. They were quite distracting because they were completely naked, save for bath robes that weren’t even tightened closed.

“Holy shit!” yelled Ricky. “Get the fuck down!”

Ricky slammed on the gas and sped away, following Julian’s trail and yelling obscenities along the way. Peter kept his head down as bullets whizzed through the air, not realizing that his phone was still recording. He heard angry shouts and cursing from Cyrus and his two thugs. This isn’t going to end well, he realized. There’s no way that this is going to end well.

 

* * *

 

Ricky silently parked Lahey’s car back where he left it, and whispered for Peter to go ahead and get out of the car. Both of them wasted no time in rushing to Julian, who had arrived earlier with Cory and Trevor. The dufflebags were laying underneath the deck of a trailer that belonged to a disabled man named Ray, Ricky’s own father.

“Julian!” Ricky angrily shouted. “What the fuck was that?! What’s in those bags?”

“What did you do, Julian?” Peter asked, worried about the consequences of what just happened. “What did you just do?”

Julian didn’t seem phased in the least. He motioned with his hands to calm down, and explained in a soft voice. “No big deal guys, I just used Cory and Trevor to take the heat in case things went wrong. You see, Pete, they’ve got a restraining order against Ricky right now so they can’t work with him.”

“Yeah speaking of which...” Ricky grunted and threw a rock at them. “Fifty feet, boys! I’m serious!”

Cory and Trevor fell over each other and ran away some distance, shaking as if Ricky were some kind of terrifying monster. Julian sighed and shook his head.

“Anyway, kid, don’t worry. You’re not gonna get in trouble. You had nothing to do with it. We just stole 100 kilos of hash from Cyrus and we’re gonna put it to good use.”

“WHAT?!” cried Peter, all color draining from his face.

 

_Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no…_

 

Bubbles ran up to them, panicking and on the verge of tears. “Cyrus! Cyrus is coming! I saw him and he saw me while I saw you on my go cart when I tried to follow you to stop you and he saw me and shots fired!!!”

“Whoa, slow down.” said Ricky. “What did you say again?”

The distant sound of tires screeching to a halt followed by gunshots was all the clarification he needed.

A loud and angry voice rang from the edge of the park. “HERE’S FUCKIN’ CYRUS!”

Peter hoped that maybe Cyrus had come alone. Maybe he wanted to talk things out.

“AND DENNIS! AND TERRY- Fuck off! Let’s go!”

 

_Nope._

 

Bubbles whimpered, terrified and crouched by the old Chrysler with Ricky. Julian crouched by Cyrus’s stolen car, shoving Peter down beside him. “Don’t worry, boys.” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “I can handle this.”

 

_My suit! I just need to grab my web shooters from my backpack at Linda’s place and…_

 

“So...you're not going to be _interning_ , then?” Mr. Stark had said before he left. “I mean, Spider-Man doesn't exactly swing by Canada all the time, does he?”

 

_Damn it!_

 

All it would take would have been a thwip of his webs to put Cyrus and his two goons out of harm’s way, but he remembered that he would risk revealing his secret identity. It then dawned on him that he couldn’t even make full use of his powers without risking exposure. What if Ricky or Julian found out who he was? As much as he loved them as friends, he didn’t really feel like trusting them with such a big secret at the moment, especially considering recent events. Peter was certain that he was now party and witness to two car thefts, a burglary and now a shootout thanks to his friends and their stupid actions.

“This is so fucked up, Julian!” Ricky yelled. “If we’re doing this, then we gotta split the profits: 50-50-50. Peter, I’ll share a little with you, okay buddy? You were involved a little so you get some.”

“ _I’m_ not involved in this!” Peter exclaimed, his voice squeaking a little near the end.

Ricky tried to muffle his laughter. “Still growin’ up eh, Petey?”

Peter gave him a dirty look, his face red with embarrassment. Ricky laughed it off.

“You wanna be a man then shut the fuck up, and take this gun. There. You’re involved now! Got it?”

Ricky shoved a pistol into Peter’s hand. The kid had never held a gun before, and never really wanted to either. His heart pounded from his chest as he heard Cyrus’s footsteps approaching, his two goons at his side, guns pointed in their direction.

“Give us back our hash, Ricky!”

Ricky loaded his own gun and shouted back. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Cyrus!”

“Then why are you behind my car?!”

“Fuck!” Ricky whispered.

Peter hid his gun in the back of his pants, and stood up slowly. Ricky and the others kept whispering for him to get down before he got himself shot, but Peter ignored them. This was going to be resolved peacefully. Spider-Man or no Spider-Man.

“Cyrus!” Peter shouted, his hands up in the air to show surrender. “I know you and my friend Ricky go way back. You guys drank together and played hockey together. Probably got high together, just... Please! Let’s talk about this!”

One of men by Cyrus pointed his weapon at Peter. “Our friendship’s done with Ricky now! He can fuck off!”

Ricky felt betrayed by both Julian and Cyrus. Julian knew that Ricky was friends with the Fonz-looking bastard. Why steal from him and ruin that friendship for dope? Well, it _was_ a lot of dope. A hell of a lot of dope, but still. Losing a friend wasn’t what he needed after just getting out of jail. Lucy and Trinity were about to be out of his life, and now Cyrus’s friendship was gone. God, now everything was all fucked up!

“You know what?!” Ricky spat angrily. “I always thought you guys were dicks anyway! Fuck you!”

This wasn’t helping anything. Bubbles was still crouched, and the heated yelling between everybody had made his face wet with tears. Peter felt his heart drop, seeing a grown man cry and whimper like poor Bubbles was right now. He just wanted to give the poor guy a hug.

“But the kid’s right!” yelled Ricky. “Let’s work this out, come on! Bubbles is crying here!”

Then it was Ricky’s turn to follow Peter’s example. Taking in a breath to calm himself down, he slowly rose to his feet, and put his hands in the air. After waiting a few seconds, he carefully set his gun on top of the trunk of the car and stepped into the street, only a few yards from Cyrus.

“Let’s fight this out. A fist fight. No guns.”

Cyrus put his own weapon away. “Okay.” He said, walking closer to Ricky.

For a moment, Peter felt that this was going to end better than he thought. That was until his spider sense starting going off again. He saw Cyrus starting to reach into his jacket, where a small glint of metal hid in the inner pocket.

“Ricky get back!” Peter yelled, diving for cover inside the old car.

Thankfully Ricky jumped back at the last second as Cyrus pulled out a hidden gun and opened fire. His two goons, Dennis and Terry, unloaded their ammunition at Ray’s trailer and at the Chrysler that Peter was hiding in.

“Holy shit!” Peter screamed.

The boys were all trapped, and Ricky looked in horror at the damage being done to his father’s trailer. Ray had just finished paying it off! It was all the old man in the chair had left to his name, and these fuckers were shooting the everlasting shit out of it!

“That’s my dad’s fuckin’ trailer you dicks! You’re paying for every bit of that damage!”

Just as he was about to return fire, Julian stopped him, noticing figures in black and white approaching from both sides of Cyrus and his gang.

“Cops!” Julian whispered. “Hide the guns!”

Cyrus laughed triumphantly, not bothering to notice the large number of police officers with riot shields surrounding him.

“Now give me back my hash, or I’ll shoot this entire place straight the fuck up!”

“You’re under arrest!” an officer yelled behind him.

“Aw, fuck!” he yelled, and threw down his weapon. Terry and Dennis followed his lead, surrendering to the cops and allowing themselves to be cuffed.

Ricky and the rest of his buddies also put their hands in the air, and Peter crawled out from the bullet-ridden shell of what could still be called a working car. His body was still shaking with adrenaline.

“Nothing going on here, guys.” Ricky spoke calmly. “We just got caught up in this. We don’t know what the fuck’s going on.”

 

 _This is it._ Peter thought, breathing anxiously as the cops approached them. _I’m going to jail. It’s all over._

 

Suddenly an old man spoke up for them. “Hold up there, officers!”

Peter turned to see an old balding man in khakis rushing to his side, followed closely by another fellow with greasy black hair and a huge hairy gut, with no shirt.

“Mr. Lahey!” Peter exclaimed. “And Randy!”

“Hey, Pete. Long time no see.” Lahey smiled. “Don’t worry bud.”

Jim Lahey stood beside Peter and put his arm around him. “These men, and this boy, had _**nothing**_ to do with this! It was all those goons right there!” He pointed at Cyrus and his gang. “They’re not even from this park!”

Peter smiled in relief. Things were going to be okay! Julian grabbed a tightly wrapped brown package and presented it to the police. “I found this by their car, but I have no fucking clue what it is.”

“That’s our fucking hash!” Dennis yelled.

“Dennis you fucking idiot!” said Cyrus.

The police took Cyrus and his men away, ignoring them swearing to everybody that they would be back to kill them after they finished their time in jail. Peter waved goodbye with a smirk as the police cars drove away. Thank God Mr. Lahey was still the trailer park supervisor. He sucked at it, and was always drunk and on the edge, but he knew Peter was a good kid. Today that knowledge saved his life from jail, and from Mr. Stark kicking his ass.

 

* * *

 

Later that night, Ricky and Julian stacked up all of the packages of hash from the duffle bags, piling them in Ray’s trailer. They were staring in awe at the sheer amount of dope in front of their eyes, and the money they’d make from it all. Bubbles smiled and hooted happily as he gave Peter a noogie, congratulating him for standing up to Cyrus and helping the conflict end peacefully. He then moved Peter aside so that he could count up the hash like Ricky told him too.

“Boys, there’s over a hundred kilos of hash here.” He said, worried. “Can’t we just get rid of it and not worry about it ruining our lives?”

Peter raised his hand. “I’m with Bubbles on this one.”

“Boys, there’s nothing to worry about here.” said Julian, taking a sip from his newly filled glass. “Look, fuck Cyrus. I’m not worried about him, and I’m not worried about the hash. All we gotta do is sit on it for a while, wait for things to cool down, and then sell it all in a lump sum. There’s almost no risk here.”

Bubbles remained unconvinced. “Where are even gonna hide all of it though? Ray’s not gonna let us keep it _here.”_

Ricky scoffed at him. “Sure he will. Watch.”

He turned toward his father’s room down the hallway. “Hey Dad! Mind if we keep a couple grams of hash in your trailer?”

An angry voice shouted back. “No hash in the trailer, Rick!”

“Fuck!”

Julian muttered silently to himself, and then he had an idea. It was crazy, but smart. Of course it was smart, _he_ had thought of it. He always thought of himself as the brain for the three of them. He was the only one who read books in jail, and he was also the mastermind behind some of their odd jobs half of the time. Usually when something went wrong, it was because of either Ricky and/or Cory and Trevor. It was rarely his own fault though.

“I’ve got it!” He said, snapping his fingers. “We’re gonna hide it in plain sight.”

“What? How?” asked Peter.

“Funny you should ask, kid.” Julian said with a smirk. “You know how to pave a driveway?”

“No.”

“Well, you’re about to learn. Go home, say hi to your aunt for me, get some sleep. I’ll fill you in tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

Peter had stayed up all night editing the footage he had collected on his first day. He was a little disappointed that he left his Spider-Man suit back in Queens, but he was never so glad that he remembered his laptop. After hours of clipping, sound changes and more tricks here and there, his first video for Mr. Stark was finally ready. Just to be safe, though, he played it back one final time.

 

“ _I'm Ricky, This guy over here is Bubbles." (cut to them waving at the camera)_

 

“ _Pete's cool with it so if you wanna fly down-- and just have a – barbecue or something, come join us!"_

 

_(cut to driving with Ricky)_

 

“ _All we’re gonna do is see my buddy Cyrus--”_

 

_(cut to one final scene with Julian, Ricky and Bubbles waving hi at the camera, while Cory and Trevor grabbed a grill and pulled it to the curb, accidentally knocking it over and spilling coal everywhere with a loud crash)_

 

It’ll do, Peter thought to himself before downloading the video to his phone and sending it to Mr. Stark. Day one accomplished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins Peter's quest to hide the truth from Mr. Stark...and learn how to pave a driveway.


	4. The Hash Driveway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets pulled along, yet again, with the boys' plans and helps pave the infamous hash driveway. Meanwhile, Mr. Stark suspects that even with the videos that Peter sent him, there was still much that was being hidden.

“Peter?” May said softly, gently nudging him in the shoulder. The kid groaned and swaddled himself in his blanket, squirming to adjust himself on the couch. May shook him again.

“Peter, wake up real quick, sweetie.”

“Mm-minute.”

“Come on, sweetie. It’s noon.”

“Mm’k.” he mumbled. “M’ wake.”

“I’m going to take your sister out tonight, okay? I want you to stick around Ricky and your other friends until we get back. I gave them your number alright?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You know, Jim Lahey? The park supervisor? He expressed some concern over you. Apparently you were in a shootout?”

“Mmm?!”

Peter shot up instantly and gave his aunt a terrified look. That wasn’t a dream. That happened!

“Uh...um-”

May put her hand over his lips. “No ‘um’s’, Peter. I’m not mad at you. Lahey told me how courageous you were. I _was_ mad at you at first, but then he told me your were innocent, and that things ended peacefully thanks to you. Aw, sweetie I couldn’t be more proud.”

She kissed him on the forehead and tucked him in before heading to the door with Linda.

“Besides,” said May, giving Peter a wink. “This isn’t our _**first**_ trip to Sunnyvale, is it Pete?”

Peter cracked a quick smile. “No.” he chuckled. “I guess it’s not. I just, you know with Mr. Stark and all-”

“Don’t you worry about that man, Pete. You worry about you. He doesn’t know these people like we do. I know they’re not perfect, but they’re good people. Just don’t wind up in jail, okay?”

“Okay...uh. Wow. I didn’t expect that.”

May closed the door behind her and drove with Linda out of the trailer park. Peter was left completely blindsided by his aunt’s reaction to yesterday. Then again, Ricky _did_ say she was involved with them back in the day. At least now he could rest assured that as long as he didn’t get caught, he was free to hang around them. With that weight of conscience lifted from his mind, he laid back down and drifted away to a sound sleep.

The hours flew by as Peter sleep like a log all the way until 6 in the evening. It wasn’t until his phone started ringing that he finally got up and went to answer it. Why did he leave his phone on the counter on the other side of the living room? Oh yeah, he remembered. Because it was the only place that had a spare outlet left.

“Hello?” Peter rubbed his eyes and yawned.

“Hey Pete. It’s Julian. Look, May gave me your number to call you in case she needed us to take you somewhere but I need your help. Meet me at Ray’s, okay?”

“’kay.”

Peter ended the call and quickly ran to the bathroom to freshen up and wash his face. He still felt groggy, but he figured it would wear off after he got some fresh air. He threw on his new AC/DC shirt that Mr. Stark bought for him before the trip, and the matching dark jeans and shoes that were picked out for him. Looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, Peter inhaled and exhaled sharply.

“Day Two.” he said to himself. “Here we go.”

 

* * *

 

Julian, Ricky and Bubbles were heating Ray’s old grill outside the deck, keeping an eye out for any witnesses nearby. Cory and Trevor hurried to the front lawn carrying various gardening tools, including a roller and a large hoe. They dropped the equipment with a loud clang, and Ricky started chasing them away to the edge of the curb.

“Fifty feet, boys!” he yelled at them. “I’m not fuckin telling you again!”

“Rick, Rick. Leave them alone, all right?” said Julian, setting the supplies aside for now.

Peter casually strolled up to the barbecue grill, waving hi as he walked past it and joined the rest of his friends. “Hey guys.” he said. “What’s going on?”

Julian took a sip from his drink, and gave a head nod to Peter. “Nothing much, Pete. Glad you’re here, buddy. I got a job for you.”

 

“ _Jobs?”_ he remember Mr. Stark asking. _“What kind of jobs, Peter?”_

 

“Um… What kind of job?” Peter asked nervously.

“Here.” Julian handed him a garden hoe. “I want you to take this and help Bubbles pave the driveway, okay? It’s easy. Cory and Trevor are going to heat up all the hash, we wrapped it up in packs of aluminum foil, and you two are gonna unwrap it and then pound it flat onto the ground here, all right? It’ll look just like a driveway.”

“Wait, _what?!”_ Peter threw down the hoe. “No way, Julian I can’t get caught up in this!”

Ricky smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “Remember yesterday, smarty pants? You’re already involved, now quit being a dick and help out. Come on, it’s good experience for ya. It’ll help you grow.”

“Guys, I can’t do this!” he protested, taking a step backward. “I’m only 14, I can’t get caught in drug deals and shooting guns and stuff! If Mr. Stark finds out, I am dead! Okay? _Dead!_ ”

Julian shot a worried and agitated look at Ricky. He needed an extra hand, and Peter was still too hesitant to work with them. Ricky saw the look on Julian’s face and pulled the kid aside to have a heart to heart.

“Listen, Pete. I really like you and I know you’re trying to stay legal and stuff-” he said. “But you gotta get your hands dirty once and a while. It’s good for ya. Look at _me._ My dad let me smoke dope when I was close to Trinity’s age, I got into fights, threw bottles, stuff like that, and I turned out fine. This is nothin’. No big deal.”

“But Ricky!” said Peter.

“Look, I know you’re scared. You’re going through some changes, your voice getting deeper and stuff. You’re just going through a phrase, kid. Trust me. Phrases are all part of growing up. Now where’s that Peter Parker I taught how to throw bottles when he was six? Where’s the kid we shared our hamburgers with? Whose aunt grew the most wicked dope back in the day?”

Peter sighed in defeat. “Mine.” He said sullenly, grabbing the garden hoe. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

“Atta boy, Pete!”

“Fuck!” Peter whispered to himself.

Suddenly Peter straightened his head up, his eyes wide with shock at the foul word that just left his mouth. Did _he_ just say that?! He turned his head and saw that Bubbles, Julian and Ricky were surprised as well. They were looking at him as if he were a ghost.

“There ya go!” Ricky said with encouragement. “See? Your first F-word since you been here. You’re growin’ already!”

Meanwhile, Cory was pouring more lighter fluid onto the charcoal, adjusting his wife-beater and whipping his long braided pig tails behind his shoulders. Trevor wrapped the hash in foil and tossed it onto the grill, using a spatula to pat it down until it was as flat as possible. There was so much hash to heat up that by midnight they still weren’t done. It was pitch black outside, and so far nobody had come by to see what they were doing.

Cory and Trevor handed the heated foil product over to Bubbles, who dropped them onto the ground as fast as he could. Ricky warned the two boys again about staying fifty feet away, and Julian chastised him loudly about leaving them alone.

“Hey!” a voice yelled from inside the trailer. It was Ray, and he was not in the mood for whatever was going on outside his bedroom window.

“Hi, Ray.” said Bubbles. “Don’t mind us.”

“What the hell are you guys doing?!”

“It’s fine, Ray.” said Julian. “We’re just doing a little landscaping. Go back to sleep.”

“Your doing _what?_ It’s the middle of the fucking night! The old guy in the chair is trying to sleep here!”

“Dad. It’s fine.” Ricky chimed in, giving Peter a thumbs up as the kid used the garden hoe to help Bubbles pound the hash down and flatten it. “I’ll take care of it. Go back to bed.”

“Don’t worry, Petey.” said Bubbles. “I don’t want to do this either, but it’s for a good cause, I suppose.”

“Too much fuckin’ ruckus.” Ray muttered and laid back down.

Ricky lit a cigarette and watched as Cory and Trevor squirted more lighter fluid onto the already building flames on the grill. The fire roared and flared brightly, nearly catching the bottle that Trevor was holding.

“I’m telling you now, Julian. Those two are going to fuck up, and I’m not working with you if you’re using them. So I’m giving you an ultimarian right now: It’s either me, or Gumby and P’Fuckio.”

Julian sipped his drink, and gave Ricky a cold stare. His brow furrowed, and he raised his voice. “Boys, keep heating that stuff up. You’re doing a good job. Ricky, you’re fired.”

“What?!” Ricky couldn’t believe it. He had practically raised Cory and Trevor to help them with their jobs, and now those two were being taken from him too, along with Julian. Shit just kept getting worse. “Fine, Julian! I’m going to fuckin bed.”

He angrily slid into the front seat of the beaten down car, which Peter had mentally dubbed the “Shitmobile” at this point. Ricky stretched himself out, and rested his head on the edge of the passenger seat, using an empty motor oil bottle as his pillow.

“You make my words, Julian.” He said, closing his eyes. “Those two are gonna fuck up, and it’s just a matter of time!”

As if on cue, Peter’s spider sense went off again just as the grill toppled over and the fiery coals spilled all over the grass. “Quick get some water!” Trevor yelled.

Cory grabbed a gallon of water and dumped it all over the hot charcoal, creating a huge cloud of smoke that engulfed the trailer and blocked their vision. The coals burned out quickly with a loud sizzle, and Ricky smiled at Julian in triumph.

“I’m not the kind of person to say ‘A Toad a so’.” he said. “But you know what? A toad a so! I fuckin’ a toad a so!”

Peter rolled his eyes, and continued paving. This was going to be a long night.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Peter scrambled to find pictures to send to Mr. Stark. He swiped aside picture after picture, before finding a couple of boring ones that were safe to send. The only ones were of Ricky sleeping in his car, and Bubbles showing Peter his shed after the paving was all finished. Those would do for now, but he knew he needed more videos if Mr. Stark were to believe him. He felt completely drained from all the times that his spider sense kept going off every time Cory and Trevor acted like complete idiots. It was exhausting him. 

“Maybe I should hang around somebody else for a while.” he thought.

He looked around and found May in the kitchen, making fresh coffee. “Morning, sleepy head.” she smiled at him.

“Morning, May.”

His aunt poured him a cup and invited him to the kitchen for some eggs and bacon. Linda had already eaten, and was changing in the bathroom.

“So how was your night?” he asked, chugging his drink.

“It was fine.” She replied. “Just had a girl’s night out for her. Tonight, I hear Ricky’s throwing a barbecue. I thought it would be nice if we could come.”

Peter nodded. “Sure, that sounds great.”

_Just great._

“In the meantime, I think _**I’ll**_ go out this time. Is that okay?”

May shook her head “yes”, and made him a plastic cup of soda for the road. “Just be safe.” she said.

“I will.” 

 

Meanwhile, outside of his own trailer, Jim Lahey groaned in disgust at Randy’s sloppiness with properly cleaning and storing the gardening supplies.

“Randy, really?” he said in disappointment.

His partner, and proud Assistant Trailer Park Supervisor, shook his head. “Mr. Lahey, I cleaned those up and put them away properly yesterday.”

Jim sighed and turned his gaze upwards. “Then someone else has been using our equipment, Rand. I wonder who that could be.”

Randy gathered the gardening equipment and dragged it away to be cleaned off. Lahey kept his gaze upwards to the heavens above, and took a large gulp from his water bottle.

“The winds of shit are in the air.”

Randy looked confused. “What do you mean, Mr. Lahey?”

Jim was about to answer his beloved Bo-Bandy (as he called him often), when he saw a group of children riding their bicycles in their direction. He grimaced, and staggered to his car.

“Oh, Christ.” he said silently.

Randy saw it too. “Bottle kids!” he yelled.

Suddenly bottles of glass flew towards them, smashing into tiny pieces against Lahey’s car, their trailer, and the ground close to them. Randy screamed as one of the glass bottles hit him square in the gut.

“Ah! Stop throwing them!” he screamed. “Stop it! You little frigs!”

Trinity was leading the kids, using all of the bottles that her father had given to her for this perfect assault.

“Eat this!” she yelled and threw a bottle, shattering it against the passenger window of Lahey’s car. The barrage of glass bottles lasted a whole two minutes before the kids rode away to find another target. After staying low for a few extra moments, Jim and Randy stood up and sighed hopelessly.

“What’s wrong with kids these days?” Jim said, taking another swig of his water.

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile in the Avengers compound, Tony Stark was tinkering in his lab alone. He missed Peter’s company, even if he wouldn’t admit it. FRIDAY had already alerted him of Peter’s pictures and video of the first two days in Sunnyvale Trailer Park, and as Tony watched the footage he remained completely unconvinced. Pepper had told him repeatedly to drop the subject and let the kid enjoy his time in Canada in peace, all while Tony denied her accusations of being a helicopter parent. He didn’t fly a helicopter. He flew a _suit_. There’s a difference.

“He’s hiding something, don’t you think FRI?”

FRIDAY replied, “It does seem that way, boss. He doesn’t want to worry you, after all.”

“FRIDAY, I want to know what’s _really_ going down there. Unfortunately I can’t physically be there at the moment, so arrange for a small film crew. Send them down there, and tell the residents that it’s for a documentary of life in a trailer park.”

“Sir,” said FRIDAY. “Do you really think that will work?”

Tony pulled up the Google search with his fingers, and was reading an article on Julian from his older documentary called “Trailer Park Boys”.

“Yeah, I do. Looks like one of Peter’s buddies already had a film crew down there for some type of documentary that went bad. We’ll just say we’re doing a follow-up.”

Tony ended up clicking on “Episode 1” of the documentary. He had to be sure these guys wouldn’t corrupt his kid. As he watched Julian and Ricky leave jail within the first few minutes, he stopped tinkering with his gadgets and focused his full attention on the screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Tony decides to take things into his own hands. This will end well, right?...Right?


	5. The Barbecue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter joins J-Roc and his friends to help set up Ricky's barbecue night. Despite trying to stay on the moral straight and narrow path, he finally gives in to a little temptation after hanging with his buddies.
> 
> Obligatory Disclaimer: I own nothing. The song "Working Man" is owned by Rush. Trailer Park Boys is owned by Robb Wells, John Paul Tremblay and Mike Smith. Last time I checked anyway. Marvel owns Spider-Man and Iron Man. OK done.

J-Roc and his crew drove up to the grocery store near the trailer park, and parked the car with a screeching halt. Peter sat in the back seat and watched as T and J-Roc rushed out of the car, grabbed plastic totes filled with groceries, and threw them back into the car before peeling out of the parking lot. The aspiring rapper adjusted his camouflaged hat and snapped his fingers at Perter. “So, me and the Roc Pile got gankin’ groceries down to a science, y’know what I’m sayin?”

Peter shook his head. “Rock pile?”

“My _ **crew**_ , dawg! Come on, P. You gotta be quicker that that, y’know what I’m sayin?”

 

_These guys are a little bit...different. But so far it’s not too bad. I mean, It could be worse._

 

“Right, P. So listen up dawg.” J-Roc explained as T drove them back to Sunnyvale. “We go up to different parcel pickups every day, make sure no ma’fuckers is lookin, then we steal them bitches and sell em back at the park. It’s a good gig. We make some good cash, y’know what I mean, dawg?”

Peter peeked inside one of the grocery bags in his lap. It was full of booze, and cereal. The others were full of all kinds of necessities and snacks. He shook his head “yes” in acknowledgment of what J-Roc and T were doing. It was something he had not really heard of. Peter was a genius when it came to science and technology, but he was still a bit of a rookie when it came to criminal activity and deviant behavior.

“That’s what’s up, Lil’ P! Next time we’ll take you with us! Roll in style wit da Roc Pile!”

 

_I have made a terrible mistake._

 

J-Roc and T extended their arms to give Peter a gangsta handshake, and for a time, Peter felt like he might have a normal day. His spider sense hadn’t gone off in some time, but it was definitely still exhausted from last night. Perhaps he should just stop acknowledging it for now. It was going to drive him up a wall, literally.

The car pulled up into the trailer park and stopped in front of Randy and Lahey, who were sweeping away broken glass from the earlier assault by the bottle kids. J-Roc rolled down his window and called out to Lahey and his greasy, shirtless helper in the tight pants. The man’s greasy gut bulged outward like it was ready to burst, and nobody could take their eyes off of it.

“Randy and Lahey. What the fuck ya’ll lookin’ at with your skir today?”

Randy marched up to the car. “Frig off, J-Roc. Keep her moving!”

The crew laughed at him, and J-Roc had a comeback already in the chamber. “Randy, why don’t you go eat a cheeseburger you basketball-eating, walrus-ass ma’fucker?”

T and the crew high-fived him, laughing at Randy’s sick burn by the soon-to-be rap stars of the world. In their heads at least. Peter high-fived him as well, hoping that by playing along he would be burying his growing feeling of self-loathing and questioning his life choices.

“Actually, I’m _**off**_ the cheeseburgers now!” Randy declared proudly.

The crew laughed at him again. “Randy, don’t play me like I’m some kind of sucker, dawg.” said J-Roc, pointing to Randy’s massive greasy gut.

“Ma’fuckers like that ain’t off the cheeseburgers. Ma’fuckers like that are definitely _**on**_ the cheeseburgers, dawg!”

“Just get out of here!”

The crew drove further into the park, laughing at Randy all the way to their destination.

 

* * *

 

Peter and the Roc Pile walked their way up to the new driveway that was at Ray’s trailer, J-Roc being the first to compliment it as he tossed a cigarette down. Ricky shoved him out of the way and tossed the cigarette butt away in irritation.

“Do that again, jerk, and I’ll fuckin’ kill ya!”

J-Roc was taken aback. “It’s just a driveway, dawg. Why you gotta act so hard with us? We just walked by with some groceries for ya, Candy. Maybe talk about getting my turntables back and some shit.”

“Holy shit, I’m outta here.” Peter said to himself and walked off to Ray’s trailer. He couldn’t take the Roc Pile any longer. It was too much. Too much stupid words, stupid grocery stealing...too much _stupid_. He knocked on Ray’s door gently and found the old man in his chair, glaring menacingly.

“Now, J-Roc I fuckin’ told ya...Oh.” He stopped himself and gasped. “My bad, Petey. Come on in. Chill with Julian and the old man in the chair.”

Peter welcomed the quietness of Ray’s trailer. He knew that Ray was much more level headed and calmer than Ricky and the rest of the boys, and right now that’s exactly what he needed.

“Can I pour you a drink?” Ray asked, getting up out of his chair.

“Ray, what are you doing?!” Julian exclaimed. “Does Peter know about your disability-”

“Shit!”

Peter figured out immediately what Julian was referring to. He saw that the back of Ray’s wheelchair had the words “Return to Lobby” painted on the back, and knew that Ray was still receiving disability checks, despite the fact that he was clearly able to walk right now. It didn’t take much brain power to piece together that Ricky’s father was committing fraud. Go figure.

“It’s okay, Mr. Ray.” Peter said calmly. “I won’t tell. You’re good friends of mine. I won’t say anything.”

Ray smiled and poured a big glass of Jack Daniels for Peter to drink. “You’re a good kid, Petey! I knew it then when we first met ya, and I know it now. Wanna drink?”

“Um...I’m 14, sir.”

“Please, call me Ray. It’s fine kid.” Ray handed Julian the glass to give to Peter. “We won’t rat ya out.”

“You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to.” said Ray. “I mean, Ricky and I were drinking booze at ages way younger than you. So was Julian. And you know the poor old guy in the chair, father of one of your best friends offered you a drink of his liquor in his own home, not charging any money, not telling on you for your shenanigans...”

“Okay.” Peter said, exasperated. “Thanks. I’ll-I’ll take it. It’s just that I um… I never drank before.”

“Don’t sweat it. Just take your time.”

“Well.” Peter gulped and braced himself for the awful fire that was he was about to pour down his throat. “Here goes.”

With one quick motion, he knocked his head back and swallowed the awful liquid as fast as he could. It wasn’t fast enough. The taste was horrendous, and his throat felt as if he had just swallowed a match. It was so gross, so...warm. And nice, and calm. He found the warmth migrating from his throat to his stomach, and soon relaxed on the couch.

“Thanks, Ray.” He said, closing his eyes. Finally he could take a nice rest.

Julian smiled at Peter, giving him a congratulatory nod at having his first real drink. Ray poured another one for himself, but a knock on the door disrupted what would have been a nice quiet time of relaxation. Ray scrambled back into his wheelchair, and scooted to open the door.

“Ah fuck.” He groaned along with Peter.

It was the Roc Pile again.

“Yo Ray, you cash that check yet, ma’fucker?”

 _Oh for Fuck’s sake._ Peter thought to himself as he poured himself another drink. Courtesy of Julian.

Ray shook his head. “No, not yet. I’m sorry.”

J-Roc tightened his lips. “Was that cause yo ass was too busy getting lap dances and drunk as fuck? You got money to dump into them slot machines but ain’t got no money to pay your grocery tab? That don’t make no sense in my eyes, dawg.”

Peter threw down another drink, trying to drown out J-Roc’s incessant gangster act and the argument brewing between the Roc Pile and the old guy in the chair. Julian pulled the now buzzed Peter toward him and whispered in his ear.

“Pete, I need you to listen to me bud. Ray has a gambling addiction right now, so don’t leave any cash in plain sight.”

The kid’s eyes widened, trying to process the information while also feeling quite inebriated.

“I left 60 bucks on the table last night before I went to bed, woke up and it’s gone. I know Ray stole it. He’s a good man, but he’s hooked on those video slot machines, those VLT’s. So just, look out for yourself okay?”

 

Julian put a hand on the kid’s shoulder, and let Peter slump further into the couch. Peter let out a weak “Mmkay.” before closing his eyes, ignoring the voices getting louder as the arguing continued. Julian ignored it and kept drinking his rum in a glass, and gently leaned Peter over to the other side of the couch as he started to slump. He was such a lightweight. It was kind of funny to Julian, and he was a little glad that Peter was starting to act like one of them. Suddenly Peter’s phone began to buzz. The kid was still asleep, but his hand instinctively reached into his pocket.

“Mm’Strk.” he mumbled, forcing his eyes open. “Oh G’d! It’s M’str Str’k!”

Peter fumbled and dropped the phone, but Julian caught it, and accidentally tapped the green button. His eyes widened as he heard a male voice on the other line say, “Hey, Pete. What are you up?” What was Julian to do? He couldn’t let Tony Stark hear the kid’s drunken slurring right now! Peter was also frightened, trying to sober up by rushing to the kitchen sink and washing his face. Julian had to stall for time while the kid pulled himself together.

“Uh, Hi.” he said, putting his glass on the table. “You’re Mr. Stark, correct?”

There was a short pause on the other line, before Tony answered. “Yes, and who am I talking to?”

“I’m Julian, I’m one of Peter’s friends. He’s a bit busy at the moment but can I-”

J-Roc’s yelling cut him off. God, were they _still_ going at it?! “That’s the same bull-ish you laid on me last time, dawg!”

Somewhere along the way, Bubbles had joined in. He must have been looking for Peter or Julian and heard the commotion.

“Come on! He’s fuckin’ addicted! I mean he’ll go down every day pumpin’ the dirty cocksuckers full of his money and-”

“Guys!” Julian yelled. “I’m on a fucking phone call! Chill out, for fuck’s sakes!”

“What on earth did I just hear?” Tony sounded agitated. “Who’s pumping what into who, and where is Peter? Because he better not be anywhere near this.”

Julian pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed them to stop fighting, now. “Relax. He’s fine. He’s just-”

“I want to talk to him.” He really sounded pissed now. Julian was starting to picture this guy as one of those retail moms who always ask to speak to a manager.

“He’s busy.” Julian looked at Peter who was stumbling back to the couch, nearly walking straight into Ray. He was immediately grabbed by J-Roc.

“Well, me and Lil’ P over here?!” he shouted. “We just gonna up and leave!”

“Wait!” shouted Julian. “You can’t take Peter, he’s with _us_ tonight for the barbecue!”

“Excuse me, hello?!” said Tony. “Let me talk to Peter, _**now**_. Or I promise you, there will be consequences.”

J-Roc rolled his eyes and released Peter, who scooped the phone from Julian’s hand. “Thanks.” he said to him. Julian nodded and looked pale as he sipped his drink. That Tony Stark was like a helicopter around this kid.

“Hi, Mr. Stark.” said Peter, clearing his throat.

“Yo whuddup T-Stark!” J-Roc’s voice rang over the kid’s shoulder. Peter hated being short right now. He shoved himself out of the way and sat back down on the couch.

“Peter?” Tony wasn’t sure where to even begin, after all he had overheard. “What’s going on up there? Everything alright?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah.” Peter knew this wasn’t going to go well. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

Ray shoved J-Roc and his gang out of his doorway. “Get the fuck outta my trailer!”

“Aw, Ray that’s cold dawg!”

Ray ignored their protests and pseudo gang signs as he shut and locked the door. Peter sighed in relief. Finally, they were gone. Ray wheeled himself to the kitchen, waiting for Julian to silently give him the signal that the coast was clear before standing up to make himself and his guests another drink.

Tony wasn’t exactly convinced that everything was “fine,” as he heard the commotion followed by a door slam. “What was that?” he asked, suspiciously.

“That was just my friend’s dad, kicking out some idiots from the doorway.”

“Uh-huh. Wanna try again?”

Peter gulped. “No, honest. That’s what happened.”

Julian saw the pellets of sweat dripping from the poor kid’s face. He was getting nervous, scared that he would be forced to go home sooner than he wanted. A sense of guilt and pity swept over him, and he took the phone from Peter’s trembling hand and spoke calmly.

“He’s right.” he said. “That’s what Peter was busy with. He was helping Ray, that’s his friend’s dad, kick those troublemakers out. He didn’t want you to worry though, so that’s why I didn’t say anything at first.”

Another long pause.

“Ok.” Tony sighed. It didn’t matter to him whether Peter was lying anymore or not. What Peter and his buddies didn’t know was that soon his film crew would be there, and then he’d see what was really going on.

“Well, I was just calling to see how your trip’s going. I called your aunt but she’s ignoring my calls for the moment. So if everything’s okay, I guess I’ll just leave you to it.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.” said Peter, his face beaming again now that their little trick had worked. “We’re going to have a barbecue tonight! I’ll send you pictures.”

“Oh yes, please do.”

Peter couldn’t help but feel a hint of attitude in his mentor’s tone with that last sentence. The call finally ended, and all three of them breathed a sigh of relief.

“That was close.” said Peter, shoving the phone back into his pocket. “Thanks guys.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid.” said Ray, patting him on the shoulder.

“No worries, Peter.” said Julian.

“No seriously, how can I ever pay you guys back?”

Julian smirked. “I’m sure I’ll think of something. Now run along before May gets worried.”

 

* * *

 

Just outside Ray’s trailer, Peter found Ricky squatting with his face inches from the newly paved driveway of hash. In his hands were the top half of a plastic bottle and a blowtorch.

“What in the-?”

 

_Was he...smoking his own driveway?_

 

“Ah! That’s some good shit there buddy!” Ricky said with a huge exhale. “Wanna try some?”

“No.” The words blurted out before he even had time to process what he just saw.

Ricky set the torch on the ground, next to an empty paper back, a hand towel and a metal tray.

“I tell ya, tonight’s gonna be _wicked!_ ” He chuckled, eyes glassy and red. “Make no doubt about it. We’re getting high tonight!”

“Sounds like you’re a little early for that, Rick.” said Peter.

Suddenly his spider sense went off again. This time Peter was instantly able to spot the problem. The blowtorch was still on, and had set the paper bag on fire.

“Ricky, the blowtorch!” He shouted, pointing to the small fire.

Ricky tumbled over and swore as he shut off the torch. He first tried extinguishing the small flame with his towel. He patted it over the fire over and over again, cursing as Peter watched. Why wasn’t the fire dying out?! Thought Ricky. Annoyed, he dropped the towel, grabbed the metal tray and mercilessly pounded it onto the fire until it was completely out.

“So anyway, you should come help me set it up.” he continued as if nothing happened. “I got J-Roc and his buddies gathering up the supplies right now. What do you say?”

“Sure. Sounds great.”

Peter decided to head back to Linda’s place when he saw Bubbles coming up to them, a big grin on his face. Together they spent some time talking about their day. Ricky had discovered that moisturizing cream, although not for human consumption, was delicious. He had gotten in an argument again with Sarah and Lucy, and had a lot riding on this barbecue. He needed things to go well if he ever had a chance with getting back together with the mother of his child. Meanwhile, Bubbles was worried about Ray’s gambling addiction, and Peter was just trying to keep Mr. Stark off of his back. It seemed they were all pretty stressed out, and a nice night of booze, dope and burgers was what they needed to take the edge off.

“But...” Peter mumbled softly. “I’m 14.”

“Yeah, so?” Ricky laughed. “I was way younger than that when I started. Hell my dad let me drink in Grade 6, and I was growing dope in Grade 7-”

Peter couldn’t take it anymore. “Ricky that’s not a good thing!” he yelled.

Bubbles wrapped an arm around the kid’s shoulder, and started to gently rock him side to side.

“Now, now. Just take it easy.” he said. “I think we’re all just a little stressed out. And, Pete I know you don’t like drugs, and I don’t either but tonight...how about we relax a little huh?”

Peter leaned into Bubbles’ shoulder, saying nothing.

“All right. I’m sorry I snapped at you, Rick. I know you meant well.”

Ricky smiled, falling over again as he tried to get up from the ground. Peter couldn’t help but let out a giggle, watching the guy falling over his own feet again and again. Even standing up was hard for Ricky sometimes, especially when he was drunk or high. So far, Peter counted him saying “Fuck!” ten times before he finally managed to stand up.

“See? There’s a smile already.” Bubbles chuckled.

“Yeah.” Peter let a small grin form on the edge of his lips. “I guess there is.”

 

In the distance he saw J-Roc and his crew dragging a brand new grill with bags of condiments and meat for the barbecue. Ricky marveled at the beauty of the grill in front of him, the chain and $1499 price sticker still attached to it. J-Roc grabbed his two turntables and a microphone before thanking Ricky and heading home. Something grew in Peter’s heart in that moment, while watching Bubbles unload the bags filled with chips, burgers, booze and all kinds of other things. Soon, Peter found himself using his strength to break off the remaining chain on the grill and then removed the sticker. He then positioned the grill exactly where Ricky would probably want it, and grabbed a grocery bag to unpack. Peter knew that Ricky was excited about this night, and it wasn’t until he saw the glazed over smile on the big guy’s face that he realized: He’d been kind of a dick.

Perhaps not outwardly so much, but inwardly he seemed to constantly feel morally or intellectually superior to his old friends, and some new. As much as he loathed his time with J-Roc and the Roc Pile, he should have also appreciated what they were doing for a friend in need. The same went for Ray, the drunken fraud, and Julian the criminal mastermind of Sunnyvale. They were screw-ups. Nobody needed to point that out to them, but as Peter helped light the grill and mosquito repellent candles, he decided to let all that burn away like the hash Ricky smoked earlier.

Aunt May and Linda came out of their trailer to join the fun, bringing their own bongs to share with everybody. It didn’t even bother him anymore that his aunt had been involved with growing and smoking weed. He laughed as May started acting a fool, dancing to the music playing from a boombox she had brought with her. He smiled as Bubbles showed off his wrestling costume with pride: a T-shirt, long sleeve shirt, a pair of shorts and pants. All worn out and colored in green. “The Green Bastard: From Parts Unknown,” Bubbles called his alter-ego.

“That’s really cool.” Peter chuckled.

Bubbles hooted as he laughed, happy as a kitten that Peter liked his special costume. Peter was allowed to hold one of his googly-eyed friend’s many kitties, and they seemed to take an instant liking to him. As the night wore on, Peter and Bubbles drank with the rest of the community that had gathered. Thankfully Aunt May was okay with it, as long as he only drank “a little bit”. The air smelled of smoke from the coal, cooked cheeseburgers, and weed. It was the weed smell that started to ease Peter into a state of relaxation. He had never done drugs in his life, and although he wasn’t intending on starting tonight, he let the smell of the smoke around enter his nostrils and into his lungs. The stench was both revolting to him, yet welcoming at the same time. As he let his shoulders droop and his body melt into a state of pure relaxation, he watched with a sense of peace and joy as his friends were having a good time.

Peter was right. Mr. Stark was right. These guys were screw-up, delinquents, some were complete idiots. But they were also people with hopes and dreams. All Julian wanted was to retire in peace. Bubbles wanted to be able to support himself and his kitties, while always being with his two best friends in the world. Ricky wanted his family to be together again, and Peter wanted to be the best superhero he could be; for himself, for Uncle Ben, Aunt May, and Mr. Stark. And although what he had been doing now probably wasn’t exactly the best display of responsibility, he decided that tonight, it was okay.

 

“It’s good to unwind every once in a while.” He said to himself, taking a bite of one of Ricky’s cheeseburgers.

 

_Holy crap. Why did these suddenly taste amazing?_

 

* * *

Meanwhile, Tony had finally managed to finish the first two episodes of Julian's documentary. He had been plagued with meetings all day, and had little time to immerse himself into the series. Pepper kept telling him to let the kid be, but Tony just _knew_ that something wasn't quite right. It was close to 11pm now, and for the genius inventor that was pretty early. With all of his business dealings finally over for the day, he made his way into the kitchen to prepare a sandwich. It was then that his phone started to buzz.

**_MESSAGES:_ **

_Peter Parker_

_3 New Messages_

Tony smiled and opened the text messages. 

_"Hi, Mr. Stark! We're at a barbecue! And we're eating burgers omg!"_

_"I feel awesome! Everything is awesome! Everything is cool when you're part of a team lol "_

 

Tony didn't quite know what to make of those texts. "What the hell?"

He scrolled to last thing Peter sent. It was a video of Aunt May and her sister dancing horribly to music by the band, Rush.

"They call me the working man!" May sang painfully out of key. "I guess that's what I am!"

The crowd around her cheered along, and smack in the middle of that crowd was his protege. His kid. Peter fucking Parker, with red eyes and a big grin that would make even the Cheshire Cat jealous.

Tony gripped the phone so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He felt his blood pressure rising as the kid, _his kid,_ jumped in to dance with his obviously drunken aunt.

"WHAT IN THE ABSOLUTE FUCK?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's gonna suck for Peter in the morning. The barbecue seems to be a success for now, but like most things in Trailer Park Boys, it's only a matter of time before something fucks up. And that big fuck-up comes in the next chapter.
> 
> Hope you like it so far! Drop a comment by if you like, just to give your thoughts! Take care!


	6. That's the Fuckin' Way She Goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fun starts winding down, and Julian decides to take Ray to the club for more drinking. Unfortunately, they left Ricky unsupervised and gave Ray some money.

The dancing finally died down after another hour or so, and most of the residents had already gone home. May kissed Peter good night and went with Linda back to her trailer.

“Take care of him, Julian.” May said with a drunken smile. “Don’t be out too much later, okay?”

“No problem, May.”

Peter’s focus was on those delicious looking potatoes that Ricky was wrapping in foil and setting on the grill. Bubbles followed his line of sight and laughed.

“Got the munchies, don’t ya Pete?”

Peter giggled. “Maybe. But look at Ricky, Bubs. He’s just so into it.”

Bubbles knew what he meant. Any time that Ricky was cooking on a grill, he was in the zone. “Oh, yeah. That’s Ricky for you. When he cooks something, he has to really focus all his mental abilities to do it.”

“For real?”

“Yeah. I’ve seen him get pulled into a trance by bacon sizzling. He’ll just stand there staring like this.”

Bubbles did his impression of a thousand yard stare, and made Peter burst out laughing.

“The fuck’s so funny, guys?” asked Ricky. He couldn’t help but notice that Peter’s eyes were glassy as fuck! He had to say something.

“Pete.” He snickered. “Did you smoke a little too much?”

“I didn’t even smoke though, man.” he replied hazily. “I just breathed the air, Ricky. Just breathed the air.”

Ricky lit a blunt and started to smoke it. “You think you’re feeling good _now?_ Try this.”

Peter took the blunt and inhaled. Almost instantly he started coughing his lungs out until slobber dropped from his mouth. His face turned red as he handed the blunt back to Ricky, who just kept smiling at him.

“You’ll get used to it. Don’t worry that’s normal.”

Julian tapped Ray on the shoulder. “Hey, man. Wanna head to the bar for some more drinks?”

Ray took a swig of his beer and shook his head in affirmation. “You bet buddy. I’m up 60 bucks right now at the slot machines they have at this one place. Lemme finish my drink then we’ll go.”

From across the street, Cory and Trevor stared at the grill. Ricky hadn’t cooked them anything all night, and they were extremely hungry.

“Hey, Ricky!” Trevor called out.

“Dude, any chance of us getting a burger?” shouted Cory.

Ricky paused for a second. “Nope, sorry. Police Bond. Fifty feet, boys!”

“Come on, Rick.” said Julian, sipping the rum in his glass. “Give them a little something.”

“I am, Julian.” He replied, closing the lid to the grill. “I’m giving them fifty fuckin’ feet.”

“Fuck’s sake, man.” Julian turned towards the poor guys. “Ok, boys. Who wants to go to the strip club?”

Bubbled giggled excitedly, munching with a tin can full of fries. “I’ll go! That’s for damn sure!”

 

Cory and Trevor were already heading for the car. Julian counted that with Ray, the two dumb asses, and Bubbles, his car would be full. Peter tried to walk to Julian to express his own interest, but tripped on his feet and fell on the ground face first. He raised his hand, and muffled into the ground.

“I’ll go!”

Julian sighed. “Ricky, look what you did. Jesus, kid. Get off the ground.”

Ricky shrugged, ignoring the rising intensity of the heat inside the grill he had covered. “Don’t look at me! He smoked it.”

“He’s all fucked up! What are we gonna do about it?”

Bubbles helped pull the kid to his feet, trying to keep him balanced as he staggered.

“Well, we can’t send him home like this!” Bubbles pouted. “May will beat the fuck out of us!”

Julian grimaced and took another sip from his glass. “Put him in the back. He’ll stay with us until he sobers up.”

Peter stumbled his way to the car, and leaned against it. He felt so weird. What was this feeling?! He wanted to freak out, but at the same time it felt so nice. He couldn’t be high, could he?

“Hey Bubs.” said Ricky, taking a bite out of his burger. “Lemme have some of those fries, man.”

To his surprise, Bubbles let out a small whine and pulled away from him. “Ricky, these are _mine!”_

“Come on, man.”

“Nope.” Bubbles slowly made his way up to Julian’s Monte Carlo. He walked sideways to make sure his friend didn’t try to steal his food. “There’s fat on the stove, just cook yourself some more.”

Ricky groaned as Bubbles opened the back door. “I don’t know how to do all that!”

Ray wheeled himself behind Bubbles, tossing his finished can of booze onto the grass. “Bubs, how about you get in the front? There’s more room back there.”

Bubbles rolled his magnified googly eyes, and let the “guy in the chair” have his way. “Well, if your legs don’t fuckin’ work, then what’s it matter, Ray?” He muttered.

Ray ignored him and sat in the front. Cory and Trevor sat in the back seat with Bubbles, and Julian had Peter lay on top of them.

“I don’t have a seat belt.” said Peter, giggling. “Will I fly?”

Julian ignored him and sat in the driver’s seat, immediately starting the car and driving away. This kid, he swore, was just too much sometimes.

 

Ricky watched them drive off, cursing that he’d have to go into his father’s trailer to actually cook on the stove. He didn’t know how to cook on a stove! As he stood alone, with his blunt in his mouth, he only wished that his love, his woman, would be there to comfort him. Lucy ran a finger down her long, blonde hair, and wrapped her arms lovingly around Ricky from behind.

“Hey, tiger.” she mumbled, the strong smell of alcohol escaping her mouth. “Potatoes done?”

“Fuck!” Ricky shouted as he flung open the lid to the grill. Lucy frowned in disappointment as a burst of fire erupted from the grill, consuming what could—at one point—have been called potatoes. Of course he would burn them. Why would he ever do something right?

“Oh, it’s okay.” she said with a cringe. “I’ll still take those.”

Ricky shook his head. “You can’t eat those! Look at them!”

For a few seconds, they stood there together, mourning the loss of their beloved snack, as it still continued to burn in flames, becoming charred to a crisp. He was about to angrily kick the grill over when he saw a small film crew in a white van driving into the park, and stopping just in front of them.

 _Who the hell are these dicks?_ He thought.

“Pardon us.” one of the crew members said as he stepped on the driveway. “Are you Ricky?”

“Get the fuck off my driveway, you idiot!” Ricky yelled as he chased them off.

The crew members, dressed in black polo shirts, muttered to each other and then nodded in agreement. This was definitely the “Ricky” that Mr. Stark had told them about.

“Apologies. We’re here to follow up with your documentary. Shall we begin filming immediately or wait until morning?”

Ricky groaned in annoyance. “Fuckin’ Julian and his goddamn documemories! Fine, I don’t give a fuck, just stay off the driveway. I’m serious.” He then grabbed a nearby fire extinguisher and shoved it into the hands of one of the crew members. “Here. Make yourselves useful and put all this fire out. I’m gonna go in the trailer.”

The cameraman had just started recording when Ricky and Lucy scrambled into Ray’s trailer, leaving them to put out all the candles.

“Guess it’s time to see why Tony Stark wanted us here so fast.” said the crew member with the extended microphone.

“Here goes.”

 

* * *

 

Ricky was ashamed to admit that he needed some help turning on the stove and figuring out how long to wait for the fat to heat up before tossing in some frozen fries. Lucy grabbed a bottle of whiskey from Ray’s shelf and plopped herself on his chair, taking a big gulp as she tried to drown her feelings of disappointment. Ricky was such a loser. She knew this. But she also knew that he never stopped trying to make up for his mistakes, unless he forgot.

“Those are gonna be great.” She said, melancholy. “Just, awesome.”

The film crew silently walked through the front door and began filming. The cameraman focused his view on Lucy, who just stared at them with disgust.

“Rick, is there anywhere we can have a conversation without...” She gestured at the crew. “...A fucking circus?”

The next thing they knew, a camera went flying into the grass, and one of the crew was tugging at his microphone as Ricky shoved him and everyone else outside. They backed away quickly, being sure to record every second as this idiot with a Rockabilly hairdo kept approaching them.

“Guys, you’re fucking things up with Lucy.” He said angrily. “We gotta go take care of some adult stuff—finances, childamony, and stuff-- so fuck off for a while, will you? Go bother Julian and them at the strip club.”

As Ricky and Lucy hopped into the Shitmobile and peeled away, one of the sound guys said to himself, “Did that guy _really_ just say ‘childamony?’”

The cameraman focused his attention on a striking image from the window of Ray’s trailer, keeping his eyes on the scene as he backed into their vehicle to leave. Ricky had left the fat cooking on the stove, and fire erupted from inside the pot.

* * *

 

Peter wasn’t quite sure how he ended up sitting outside of a strip club in the middle of the night. All he knew was, for some reason, they wouldn’t let him inside.

 _Man, the stars look pretty tonight._ He thought aloud, his mouth gaping open. _Space is so cool. Maybe one day I can like, fly up there or something. Like on a big rocket ship—going “YEEEET!!”_

He laughed as he finished that last thought, picking up a crushed can of beer and staring at the logo. It was then that a large white van pulled into the parking lot and a small film crew unloaded their equipment.

“Hey, you guys with Julian’s old documentary?” he called out the them, throwing the can into the street.

The sound guy called back. “Just doing a follow up, kid. Is he in there?”

“Yeah!” said Peter. “Come on, I’ll show you!”

The cameraman shot a confused look at the rest of his crew. “What the hell is Stark’s intern doing here?”

One of the other men shrugged. “Maybe he’s on an assignment here or something. Who knows with Tony Stark.”

 

* * *

 

Peter staggered inside the club, nearly running into a hot, barely clad waitress passing out drinks on a tray. He blushed and kept ducking and weaving his way to Julian’s table. The lights and loud music was incredibly intense for Peter’s enhanced senses, and he felt as if the waves coming from the speakers were vibrating through his skin. He couldn’t just _hear_ the music, he could _feel_ the music.

_Oh boy...Too much. Too much input._

“Peter!” yelled Julian. “What the hell are you doing here? I said stay out there! You’re gonna embarrass yourself.”

“B-But the film crew’s here, and they wanted to see you.” Peter said with a dopey smile.

“What? Those dicks are back again?”

Julian glanced over the kid’s shoulder, and sure enough, there they were. He rolled his eyes and forced Peter into the empty seat behind Ray.

“Just...be careful.” He commanded. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Cory and Trevor were mesmerized by the sight of the scantly clad dancers on stage, twirling on the poles. Peter averted his eyes, too embarrassed to look. Julian snapped his fingers and tossed a wad of cash onto their table. Bubbles quietly hooted as he was enjoying the show, but he was starting to crave something to drink.

“Julian, we’ll have to buy something.” he said, keeping his eyes on the dancers on stage. “They’re not gonna let us just sit here.”

“Cory! Trevor! Go buy us some drinks.”

The two stood up straight—unfortunately so did their pants. Bubbles rolled his eyes while Peter just face planted into the table. The worst part was that the camera was already recording everything, and he knew it.

“At least nobody’s calling attention to it.” He whispered to Cory. “Quick! Sit down!”

Suddenly a loud angry voice rang out from somewhere in the strip club, “Jesus Christ, boys!” It screamed in fury. “Ease off with the _**fuckin’**_ erections!”

Peter bolted out of the chair and back to the front door. “And that’s my limit for the night!”

He nearly knocked over the cameraman on his way out, but was just ready to go back to the quiet outside. Meanwhile, Ray grabbed the cash and started to wheel himself away.

“I’ll right back. I’m gonna go get some drinks.”

* * *

 

Julian kept scanning around the club, looking for any sign of Ray. He’d been gone thirty minutes. How long could it possible take to order some drinks? Even Bubbles shot him a look of concern. Something was definitely wrong.

“Cory, Trevor.” Julian snapped his fingers and commanded them. “Get up, we’re looking for Ray.”

Bubbles frowned. “Julian, look.” He pointed at a sign at the corner with the words “VLT Room” on them.

“I’ll bet he’s in there.”

The group shoved their way into the small, crowded room with virtual slot machines. Surely enough, there was Ray, slumped in his chair in defeat. His grim expression said it all.

“Well boys, liquor money’s gone. I lost it all.”

Julian shook his head, pitying the old man for being so addicted that he would steal from his own son’s best friend, twice.

“Ray, you didn’t.”

“That’s just...the way she goes.”

Bubbles blinked at him in confusion. “What do you mean ‘she goes’? You lost all our drinking money, is that what ‘she goes’?”

Ray straightened himself up in his chair. “Well, yeah that’s what I said. Sometimes she goes, and sometimes she doesn’t. Tonight she didn’t go. That’s the way she goes.”

Bubbles huffed angrily and waved his arms to shoo Cory and Trevor out toward the door. “Guess we’re just goin’ the fuck home then!”

Julian turned his head away. He was so angry that he didn’t even want to look at Ray right now. “Cory, get him the fuck out of here. We’re going home.”

 

* * *

 

Time went by slowly for Peter, as he stared at the wooden planks beneath his feet. He found himself gazing into every crack, every fiber, just staring until he swore he could see the atoms. A loud smack of the door against the edge of the building sent him springing to his feet. Julian was marching angrily towards the car, followed by the rest of the gang. Peter followed suit, being finally sober enough to walk without tripping on himself. When everybody else got into their seats, Peter plopped himself on top of the people in the back, and they drove back to Sunnyvale.

The drive back was awkward and quiet. The tension was enough to choke on, and Peter was just ready to stop acting as Cory and Trevor’s human table. At least Bubbles was trying not to touch him. The other two were resting on his back. Julian slowed the car down as he and Ray gazed at the orange glowing light coming from the trailer park.

“Oh no.” Ray whispered, with worry. “Poor Donnie. His trailer must have burned down again—poor bastard.”

As Julian slowly drove further down the familiar street, he noticed that Donnie’s trailer wasn’t the one that was burning. It was Ray’s.

“Oh my God.” the old man’s voice was trembling. His home had been reduced to mostly ashes and charred walls. The only thing that seemed intact was the kitchen sink, and some of the wall. Surrounding the smoking remains was a group of firefighters and some bystanders standing around looking at what was once a home. Ricky was standing in the middle of it all, his face as calm as ever.

“No big deal, Dad!” he shouted over the firefighters and the crowd. “Just a little fuckup.”

“Jesus Christ.” Ray yelled. “Boys, get my chair!”

The car doors swung open and Peter crawled out first, landing on the ground with his belly. He scampered to his feet and grabbed Ray’s stolen wheelchair from the trunk. In seconds, Ray wheeled himself close to the remains of his ramp, his eyes swelling as he saw his home destroyed.

“Oh my fuck...” He mouthed to himself. “Ricky, what kind of a fuckup was this? What happened to my trailer?”

Ricky patted his dad on the back, trying to be some comfort. “I dunno. It just burned on its own.”

“On its own?!” Ray shouted. “Trailers don’t just burn down on their own, Ricky! What happened?!”

“Grease fire. Nobody hurt.” A police officer was standing right next to them. He answered plainly, his arms crossed. The gray haired cop looked as if he’d seen this plenty of times.

“Some idiot left a pot cooking on the stove, at least that’s what the fire inspector says.”

Bubbled shuddered. “God, the french fry pot.” His voice was shaking, and barely above a whisper. “Oh no.”

For a few moments, everybody stared in awe of the scene. Ray had worked to pay off that trailer for 30 years. It was the only thing left in his life with his ex-wife’s name on it. It was the only thing he had to give to Ricky some day, and now it was all gone. Julian whispered something about the driveway to Ricky, who had forgotten all about it. Quickly, he ran in front of the firefighters and waved for them to back off.

“Everybody get off the driveway, please!” He said. “It’s the only thing my dad has left, and it’s all soft from the fuckin’ heat.”

The firefighters just stood there looking at him.

“Thank you all for your uh...water and whatever else you did, but the fire’s over so fuck off now, okay? And get all your hoses and shit off the driveway! I’m seriously about that!"

 

Ricky felt his emotions well up again. He was so ashamed that he was too stupid to check the stove before driving off to bang Lucy behind the muffler shop nearby. He had gotten caught by the police, who thankfully let him go, and his big night was now officially ruined.

“What the fuck are you all looking at?! It’s a little bit of a tiny fire! Show some respect! Please!”

The crowd dispersed and Peter was finally able to get back onto his feet.

“Poor Ray.” he said to himself. “That was all he had.”

Jim Lahey arrived on the scene, accompanied by Randy who was once again shirtless. He placed a hand on Ray’s shoulder, and spoke in a gentle voice.

“Ray, we’ve set up a relief station back at the house. You’re welcome to bunk there tonight, if you want.”

The old man never even looked at Lahey. “No that’s alright Jimmy.” He said with resolve.

Lahey was taken aback. “Why? Is it because they don’t have a ramp?”

Ray glared at him with bitterness. “No, Jimmy. It’s because I don’t like you, buddy. I’d rather sleep on the goddamn ground. Capeek?”

“Ray, come on that doesn’t even-”

“Good night.”

 

Ricky puffed out his chest and pushed his father up the remains of the ramp. “Get, Lahey! Get out of here. Same for you, Randy!”

Peter stood with wet eyes as Ricky knelt at his father’s side. The poor man. At least he still had his son.

“Dad I know it looks bad, but it’s really not.”

Ray didn’t respond.

“Ok, well...it’s pretty fucked.” Ricky exhaled sharply, trying to comfort his dad. He was never good with words, but right now they were all he had. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe this happened.”

Ray shook his head, sighing in despair. “That’s the way she goes, buddy. That’s the fuckin’ way she goes.”

 

* * *

 

Tony received an email while sitting in his office, pretending to actually work. He pulled it up on a screen that appeared in front of him, and saw that it was from his film crew.

 

_Subject: Arrived at Sunnyvale Trailer Park. Short Footage Included_

_Mr. Stark, we have arrived at the location and have already begun filming. Attached is some footage from our first few hours here. Please pardon the sound and camera issues. Some crazy guy at the park assaulted us and tried to damage our equipment._

 

Tony raised a curious eyebrow and opened the attachment. The first thing he saw was that “Ricky” character again. He was actually fighting with his film crew, and threw the camera out into the grass. That was expensive equipment! As the footage kept playing, he saw that Ricky had left the stove on, and whispered a silent “Oh no.” as the car drove away. The next bit of footage showed Peter, eyes red and glassy, was struggling to even walk straight.

“What in the hell?”

He paused the video and poured himself a shot of rum. If things were about to get any worse, he’d need the alcohol. Where were they? Why was Peter out there in the middle of the night? Alone? After taking a gulp, he hit the “continue” button. Peter was smiling and giggling happily. Stark felt his blood pressure rising while he watched his kid being clearly high. Peter was supposed to be the _good_ kid, dammit!

“At least it can’t get much worse.” he mused.

Suddenly the camera panned upwards to reveal the name of the place where they found Peter.

“ _Ralph’s Place”_ It said, with a pair of stripper legs as its icon.

Tony’s eyes were nearly entirely round at this point. He took another shot and stayed glued to the footage. Peter was staggering and almost running into people, giggling as he finally made it to a table by the stage. The environment around the kid was filled with lights, loud music and barely clothed women. Alcoholic drinks were all over the place. He was at a fucking strip club! How the hell did he even get through the door?!

“What the fuck?!” he yelled out loud.

Tony kept watching, making quick use of his bottle of rum. This kid was going to be the end of him, one way or another. Now it looked like they were back at the trailer park, but one of the trailers had burnt down.

“Ricky.” Tony just shook his head. “How does this idiot know my kid?”

Again, there was Peter, crawling out of the back seat of the car like a worm. Tony buried his face in his hands. He frowned in utter disappointment as his incredibly smart and capable protege was now high out of his mind, and laying on the ground admiring the dirt.

“That’s it.” Tony said to himself, turning off the screen. “I’m going down there. FRIDAY.”

“Here, Boss.” she replied.

“Tell Pepper I’m going down there. I don’t care if I have to cancel everything.”

At that instant, Pepper stepped into the office, carrying folders in her arms. Her face was so smug.

“You’re not going anywhere. You’ve got a meeting with Oscorp to discuss selling the tower, remember?”

Tony shook his head, “But this is-”

Pepper silenced him with her hand over his mouth. “Tony. He’ll be fine. May’s with him. His friends are with him.”

He gently moved her hand out of his way. “You didn’t see what I just saw.”

“What do you-” she froze. “Don’t tell me you’re spying on the kid.”

“Well, no. Spying is a bit of a strong word but-”

“Tony Stark!”

“Pep, you should see the shit that’s going on over there!”

She stood her ground. “You’re going to leave him alone unless things get _really_ bad, and May calls you. Understand?”

He hanged his head.

“Don’t be hovering over him, Tony. He’s going to make mistakes. It’s part of growing up.”

Tony sighed and watched Pepper leave the room. He loved her so much, and deep down he knew he was already taking things too far with spying on the poor kid. Maybe she was right, and it would be better to just leave Peter alone. But that footage kept replaying in his mind. He needed to be absolutely certain that Peter was safe.

 

_It’s a good thing Pepper doesn’t know about my film crew...yet._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's the big fuck up. Leave it to Ricky, right? Next chapter's being written now, with more of the aftermath, and more trouble for the boys.


	7. The Aftermath pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bubbles thinks he burned down the trailer, and Ricky is all too happy to agree.

The next morning, Peter woke up on Linda’s couch again. He had a small headache, and he felt a little sluggish.

_What happened last night?_

 

May and Linda were already gone. Peter took a morning shower and changed into his clothes for the day. His phone showed two new messages. They were both from his aunt.

_May- brb we’re at Ray’s trailer to see if we can provide anything for him. His trailer burned down last night. glad ur safe._

_Going shopping to buy some things for ray. Love  
_

Peter groaned. Now he remembered. He had hoped that his enhanced metabolism would quickly alleviate the hangover effects. Thankfully he was right. As he got dressed for the day and opened to door to greet yet another day in Sunnyvale Trailer Park, he kept praying that Mr. Stark wasn’t going to call to check up on him. There was that film crew that suddenly appeared though, and Peter had a strange feeling that those people were sent by Tony to keep an eye on him. Then again, it could also be paranoia. He had read once that paranoid thoughts were a side effect of marijuana. Maybe today would be a finally calm day. For once.

The old guy in the chair himself sat broken and lost in a daze. He was staring at his charred front door, still taking in the sight of what remained of his life legacy through the now non-existent walls. Standing in the burnt kitchen was Ricky, who was busy scavenging the refrigerator for any food to eat.

“Hell yes.” He said to himself. A half-eaten sausage sat uncovered in a white bowl on the top shelf. Ricky snatched it and devoured it in seconds. Ray observed his son’s complete obliviousness of the situation, actually debating about whether or not to smack him upside the head for being a complete moron. Ricky had done many stupid things in his life. He remembered the time when his son decided to caused a friendly fire shootout in a grocery store.

To be fair, it was partly Julian’s fault too. Julian had Cory and Trevor help rob the store so that Ricky would have food for his wedding. Ricky finally got the courage to propose to Lucy, and she said “yes”. Julian was, of course, made the best man, but they were too poor to supply food for the wedding. Back then, Ricky and Lucy were in love with each other, and tried to settle down and make things work. It all got ruined because Cory was so fucking stupid that he didn’t recognize Ricky trying to just buy some smokes, unaware that Julian was even there. He yelled at Ricky to get on the ground, but Ricky whipped out his gun and opened fire instead. A shootout ensued, and—long story short—The cops showed up in the park and arrested him for gun play during a robbery. He didn’t even get to finish his wedding vows, and was taken away still in his best suit.

Ray cursed to himself as a couple of people from the film crew approached him, cameras already on and recording. One of them flinched at Ricky, afraid that he might try to destroy his equipment once again. Ray took the chance to wheel himself down his ramp and talk with May Parker, who was an old friend of his. She and his ex-wife Tammy were close, before Tammy disappeared out of his life forever. May expressed her deepest sympathies, and brought some blankets and a bag of food to help him out.

“If I had a place I could let you stay, I would offer it.” She said to him. “Ray, I’m so sorry. This is all I can offer you right now.”

She handed him a bottle of liquor, and hugged him. Ray gladly took the bottle, and thanked her.

“Don’t worry. I’ll have Peter run with the boys later on to help get you something more.”

 

Ray was too distracted by May bending over to hug him, her breasts almost right in his face, to pay attention. How the hell did the kid get such a smoking hot woman for an aunt?

“Uh, sure. Yeah. Sounds great. Thanks.” He said, trying to avert his eyes.

 _Jesus Christ, Ray. Get yourself together._ He thought to himself.

Meanwhile, Bubbles had dressed himself in all black clothing to mourn the loss of the trailer, and walked into the burned down living room. Ricky noticed that there were tears flowing down his best friend’s cheeks. Usually when Bubbles got sad or upset enough, he and Julian would tickle his belly to make him giggle and cheer up. This time, it didn’t look like even that would change the haunted expression on his face.

“My God, I was hoping this was just a fucking bad dream.” He said to himself.

Ricky grabbed the retractable head from the kitchen faucet and started drinking the tap water. He seemed completely unaffected by what had just happened.

“Well, it wasn’t.”

Bubbles felt himself trembling in shock as he ran to the blackened pot that was still on the stove. “My brain must have played tricks on me. I _know_ I turned that fat off!”

“What are you talking about, Bubs?” Now Ricky was interested. He wasn’t showing it, but he was mentally kicking the everlasting shit out of himself for what he did. It seemed like everything was falling apart for him right now.

“Ricky.” Bubbles started to sob. “I left the fat on the stove last night, but I could have sworn that I turned it off before we left.”

“Well, _my_ brain plays tricks on me all the time, buddy.” Ricky tried to be comforting. Unfortunately he still sucked at it. “It can get away with it too, because it’s like way smarter than me. It’s always fuckin’ with me.”

Bubbles just blinked at him. “That doesn’t even...just...”

“What are you trying to say, Bubs?”

“Ricky.” Bubbles sobbed. “I think I burned down your trailer.”

A light bulb went off in Ricky’s head. “Holy shit.” He said, faking his surprise. “Maybe you _did!_ ”

“I’m so sorry Ricky!” He whimpered. “I feel so terrible.”

“You left that fat on the stove. It could have _easily_ been you!”

“Please, don’t keep rubbing it in!”

Ricky patted his googly eyed friend in the back. The poor guy’s face was a blubbering mess. “Sorry bud.”

This was perfect. If Ricky could convince Bubbles that it was _him_ that burned Ray’s trailer down, then maybe he wouldn’t feel like such a failure, and he might still have a chance to fix his family. It had to work. After all, Bubbles was practically offering to take the blame from what it sounded like—in Ricky’s mind. It would be rude to refuse a good friend now, wouldn’t it?

 

* * *

 

 

Julian was hard at work driving around town in the Monte Carlo, using Cory and Trevor for a little fund-raising project to help Ray with food and supplies. By “fund raising”, it meant stopping by random bubble gum stands and stealing them for the quarters that were inside. As the Monte Carlo pulled up beside an old store with two gumball machines outside of it, Trevor jumped out of the car and stumbled into one of them, sending it crashing to the ground and spilling its contents all over the pavement. Julian rolled his eyes as he watched Trevor’s tall and lanky figure stumble around, while Cory swept his pigtails aside before trying to lift the other machine into the trunk. Of course, Cory underestimated how heavy it might be, and dropped it into the street.

“Come on, boys!” Julian yelled.

“Sorry, Julian.” Trevor mumbled as he finally got one machine into the trunk.

The two idiots combined their strength and got the second one inside. Julian pulled out a couple of pieces of beef jerky from his pocket and waited for the two to get back in the car. After they sat down and slammed the doors, he gave them each a piece of jerky and a little bit of praise for a job well done.

“Good boys.” He said, driving off as they devoured the treats.

One piece of advice that Ricky had given him was that if he ever had to lead Cory and Trevor: "treat them like fuckin' dogs." It was the only thing that worked. Julian saw that for once, Ricky was actually right. The camera crew was following them, but Julian didn’t mind as long as they didn’t interfere with the operation he had in mind. A few minutes later, they arrived at another location with gumball machines. Julian stood and watched as Trevor struggled to break open the glass with a crowbar, and eventually started groaning in frustration.

“Come on, Trevor!” he yelled. “Hit it hard! Get mad!”

“I’m trying!” Trevor whined. “It’s too hard. I can’t do it!”

Cory stood by Julian, trying to offer some words of encouragement to his best friend. They both looked up to Julian as a role model, and maybe even a father figure. They were willing to do anything for just the slightest hint of approval from him and even Ricky. For Julian to encourage them was almost overwhelming, and eventually Julian would do something that would change their lives forever.

Julian pulled out his pistol from his back pocket, and shoved it into Trevor’s hand. The lanky figure trembled at the thought of holding his idol’s weapon of choice.

“Shoot it.” Julian commanded him.

Trevor shook his head. “I’m not cool enough to hold your gun, Julian. I-I can’t.”

Cory tried to step in and show off his bravery. “Here, gimme the gun. I’ll do it!”

“No!” Julian said firmly. “ _He’s_ going to do it!”

He placed a hand on Trevor’s shoulder, and spoke with authority. “Listen to me. If you shoot that gumball machine, you’ll be a lot cooler than you are right now.”

Trevor’s eyes widened. To be cool in the eyes of Julian?! No way.

“But-” said Julian. “If you don’t, then I’m never hanging out with you two again.”

That was all Trevor needed to hear. There was no way he was going to let his mentor down. It was all or nothing. He took a deep breath, and aimed the weapon. His hands were shaking with adrenaline and fright. He had to do this. For Cory, for Julian.

“Alright, Julian!” He said, frightened. “I...I’ll do it!”

_BLAM!_

He missed. Julian shook his head and tried some more encouraging. “Try it again. Grab the gun, be confident! Squeeze the trigger, and _know_ you’re gonna hit it!”

Trevor took another deep breath, and willed himself to try again with more resolve. Be confident, he told himself. Be just like Julian. A loud shot rang as the weapon fired a second time. The glass shattered easily as the bullet hit its mark. Trevor gasped in shock. Cory yelled in cheer and wrapped his arms around his best friend, who was completely stunned at having fired Julian’s gun.

“I did it!” he screamed happily. “Julian, I did it!”

“Great job, boys! Now grab the goods and lets get in the car. We’ve got work to do.”

Julian sighed as Cory and Trevor immediately got on their knees to pick up the gumballs from the ground and stashed their pockets with them.

“Boys!” he yelled. “The machine, not the fucking gum! Jesus!”

 

* * *

 

After many a successful gumball heist, the boys dumped their stolen quarters into the VLT machines at the strip club. The film crew recorded Cory and Trevor as they sat on the stools, eager to reveal Julian’s scheme with newfound confidence. There were tons of quarters in those gumball machines. The plan was to use those quarters to play slots until they got a winning ticket, then they would simply make photocopies of the ticket and cash them in at different places.

“It’s the perfect plan.” Trevor told the cameraman, who was listening with a flat expression. “I mean, we’re just photocopying stuff.”

“Yeah, dude.” Cory chimed in, putting a quarter into a machine. “Photocopying isn’t against the law, so technically we’re not doing anything wrong, right?”

“You know, Julian’s been so good to us.” said Trevor. “He treats us like we’re equals. Like, his training program was him teaching us commands that we could remember, like ‘sit’ or “stay.’”

Cory smiled and nodded. “Yeah, and when we do a good job, we get treats and stuff. It’s awesome. So anyway, we’re doing this for Ray, and after we cash the money we’re gonna buy him some stuff like pots and pans and uh… a tent I think?”

The cameraman stood speechless, and politely excused himself from the room. He could only wonder what Tony would think once he saw the footage at the end of the day. After talking things over with the rest of the crew, they packed up and left back to Sunnyvale, hoping that there would be more good footage to find there.

 

* * *

 

Ricky sat on top of the hash driveway, rubbing a piece of rolling paper all over the bottom of his bare feet and in between his toes. This hash was so good, he thought, that there was no way he was going to risk losing any of it. Bubbles looked on in disgust as Ricky started rolling it up.

“Ricky you’re not gonna really smoke some old foot hash, are ya?”

Ricky licked the paper to seal it before giving it a light. “No use wasting it, Bubs.” He said. “This is some good stuff.”

Peter rubbed his eyes, still feeling a little tired, and leaned against the raised foundation that Ray’s trailer once sat on. Ricky was eager to share and offered him a puff. Peter took a quick sniff from the distance, his heightened senses easily picked up something off putting.

“Why does it smell like dirty feet?” He asked, his nose scrunched.

“Because it’s from the bottom of his foot, Pete.” Bubbles answered. “He’s smoking fuckin’ foot hash.”

Peter did his best not to gag. “I’m good. Thanks.” He said as politely as he could muster.

 

Ricky shrugged and kept puffing, thinking nothing of it. It wasn’t like his feet were dirty. He stepped in wet grass and stuff, so technically the water cleaned them right? Besides, he had more important things to worry about than the source of good dope—like getting his father a place to sleep for the night. Julian had fucked off with Cory and Trevor. Who knew what they were doing? Ray was sitting in the grass, by the shitmobile. He was hoping for some peace and quiet when J-Roc and his buddies came up to him with red totes full of stolen groceries. The film crew also arrived and stayed well out of Ricky’s range. Something was about to happen, and they knew it.

“Hey Ray, we know you be goin’ down hard times, dawg so we hooked you up. Know what I’m saying?” said J-Roc.

Ray was already trying to wheel himself away, but J-Roc stopped right in front of him, blocking his path.

“So here’s three totes of groceries.” J-Roc puffed out his chest, trying to show off to his “Roc Pile”. “Fifty percent off, plus the 85 bucks you owe me and that’s it, ma-fucker.”

Peter just averted his eyes. He couldn’t believe that they were still trying to squeeze money out of a man who had just lost everything he had. With everything that had happened ever since he landed in this trailer park, he felt like he was going to snap at some point. What if Mr. Stark saw that fateful moment, whenever it would inevitably happen? No more “internship.” That was for certain.

 

 _What am I talking about?_ He thought to himself. _He’s not here. That film crew couldn’t be sent by Mr. Stark. He wouldn’t go that far, just to spy on me._

 

Ray scoffed, offended at J-Roc’s attempt to get more money out of him. “Go fuck yourself.” He muttered, shooing him away like an annoying fly.

“What?!” J-Roc did a double take, looking just in time to see Ray snatch a bag of potato chips and try to eat it.

Immediately J-Roc lunged forward and tried to grab the chips back. Ricky stepped in and held him back.

“Gimme the fucking chips, Ray!” J-Roc yelled.

“I’m taking the fuckin’ chips!” Ray shouted back.

Ray tossed to chips to Ricky, but J-Roc also caught them at the same time. Peter watched as the two of them struggled and wrestled each other over a fucking snack. Bubbles tried to yell for them to stop fighting, but it was no use. Ricky used all of his weight to knock J-Roc to the ground, and claim the prize of a now crushed bag full of potato crumbs. Angry and embarrased, J-Roc grabbed his totes and ran back to the other side of the street, to his own trailer where he lived with his mom.

“Fucking phony truck driver motherfucker!” He yelled as he stepped into the middle of the road.

“Phony?!”

Now Ray was pissed.

“Who are you calling a phony, Jaime?!”

J-Roc’s face turned bright red, as his friends let out an “oooh” at that one. They all knew that there was nothing J-Roc hated more than his real name.

“I _**know**_ you did not just call me Jaime.” he gritted through his teeth. “I know you did not just-”

“Jaime!”

“That’s it, ma-fucker!” J-Roc slammed the totes onto the ground, waving his hands out to try and look tough. “I’ve had it with you and your old fake wheelchair ass! I’ll crack you, and I’ll crack any of you!”

His buddies joined in, taunting Ray and the rest of the group. Peter still decided to stay out of it. He may have slipped up last night, but he was still trying to stay well behaved. As long as things didn’t escalate too much, Peter didn’t think he even should get caught up in this situation anyway. A tingling sensation sent warnings of danger through his body, indicating that not only was something about to happen, but that he had now fully sobered up.

 

“You a fucking tough guy now?!” Ricky yelled and pulled out his gun. “I’ll show you a fucking tough guy!”

Without another word, he cocked his gun and fired on the groceries that were now laying at Jaime’s feet. He screamed like a girl and ran up the ramp to his trailer. Trinity had heard the commotion and brought some of her friends, and they were armed to the teeth with empty glass bottles. After Ricky dumped his entire clip all over the food that now littered the park, his little girl ordered her buddies to unleash wave after wave of flying glass at the Roc Pile.

“What in the fuck?!” J-Roc yelled and ducked for cover behind a lawn chair. His friends darted inside already.

“Go Trinity, go!” Bubbles cheered. “Right on!”

Jaime ran inside, barely dodging a bottle aimed for his head. “Get a hold of your child, Ricky! You’re a whack dad!”

A few shattering bottles later, and the commotion was over. Peter stared in awe at the damage that had been done already. The day wasn’t even over yet, and already there were plastic totes, trash and food all over the road and it was being blown into other resident’s driveways. A bullet shell even had managed to land by his foot. Bullet shells... Jesus Christ, this was all over some fucking chips!

Bubbles started to whimper, and patted Ray on the shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Ray.”

Ray turned to him. “What do you mean, Bubs? It’s fine. Look, we got free food.”

“No, I mean. All this bullshit never would have happened if it wasn’t for me.”

“Whoa whoa. Now wait a minute.” Ray’s voice turned more quiet, concerned. “What...what are you saying?”

Bubbles let a mournful tear run down his cheek, and hugged Ray like he was a stuffed teddy bear. “I left the fat on the stove last night!” He broke down. “I burned down your trailer, Ray!”

“Bubs...you?” Ray could barely speak.

Peter’s heart sank. Bubbles was the most innocent person in Sunnyvale. He couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone burn down a trailer. If someone like Ricky did it, then that would be expected. Ricky was reckless, and not very bright. But Bubbles?

“Hey.” Peter rushed to his friends, embracing them both in a big hug. “It’s gonna be okay, Bubs. Ray. We’ll figure this out.”

“That’s right.” said Ricky, looking slightly upset at Bubbles. “We’ll figure something out. Dad, by the end of the day, I promise you’ll have a place to sleep.”

Ray cast his disheartened gaze downward. “Don’t you mean _Julian_ will figure something out?” He said bitterly.

“No! Fuck Julian! We’ll do it ourselves! I’m your son! Me, Bubs and Pete here—we’ll find you a place to stay!”

Ray shrugged everybody off of him and wheeled himself away.

“We’ll see, Rick.” He said. “We’ll see. I’m done here. I’m going to the bar to get drunk and play on the machines.”

 

 Peter watched as Ray wheeled himself away, his head downcast. There just had to be something he could do to help. Anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long with this update! I work at a new job and there's a lot of overtime. I would try to write and end up being too physically exhausted. I am still updating this story, but with work it will take a little longer for each chapter. Thanks for reading so far. I hope you like it! =)


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